Erik's First and Only Friend
by Cadringiel
Summary: Imagine, if you will, that Erik, later known as the infamous Opera Ghost, went to a modern highschool. Perhaps his deep feelings for Christine were rooted in his memories of a different girl. . . better than it sounds, hopefully
1. Chapter 1

**Erik's First and Only Friend**

(This is set in our time because I haven't the creativity to put it in early Paris. This is also my first Phantom fic, inspired by my small whims and daydreams. I don't own Erik, or any other Phantom-related people or places. Hope you enjoy it!)

**The Meeting**

It was the first day of highschool, and all the freshmen were unknowingly deciding their fate by way of sitting with one person rather than the other. She looked about her at the seemingly countless amount of lunch tables. This girl was not particularly pretty with her curly dark brown hair reaching to about her waist and multi-colored hazel, green, and yellow eyes darting around nervously. Her skin was rather pale, and her figure not especially attractive, but she seemed to have a good heart. She was wearing old, beaten once-white tennis shoes, jeans, and a cap-sleeved black top. Still searching for a place to sit, she noticed a boy sitting alone in the back corner of the cafeteria.

He was inconspicuously dressed in dark baggy pants and a black shirt. He looked downwards, shyly avoiding the eyes of all others of the human race. The only thing particularly remarkable about this boy was the white silk mask that covered half his face. His attempt to make himself invisible had failed, as he caught the attention of the girl. She was intrigued by the boy's deliberately chosen solitude, and decided to sit with him.

Making her way around the tables, past the cheerleaders, past the jocks, past the geeks and past the goths and even past the group of girls from her old school, she reached the small table in the back.

"Hey." she said, timidly clutching the recycled paper lunch tray near her chest. He didn't look up.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked, tentatively. He made a slight, indifferent movement with his hand, his face still pointed down.

Still feeling rather awkward, she placed her lunch tray on the table and slid into the chair next to the mysterious boy. Not able to think of anything to talk about, she turned to her pile of mush that had been served to her for the understandable price of $1.75. She picked at her food with little interest, often glancing at her silent companion. Several minutes passed, as the two sat in silence. Finally, resolving to make some use of her visit to this strange boy, she asked the single necessary question.

"What's your name?" He glanced up at her. He turned his head for a moment before looking down again, giving her a glimpse of dark, cryptic eyes.

"Erik." answered the boy. His voice was soft, melodic, and enchanting, and made her wonder why he spoke so little. "What's yours?"

She paused for a moment, still rather enraptured by his voice. "Myra."

"Myra." He repeated her name, like it was a precious gem. She glanced around desperately for some way to continue the conversation, feeling she had to continue before her mysterious companion once again fell silent. She wanted to hear his voice again.

"So, do you like music?" At this, he sat up and turned his head to face her fully. This time he did not look back down shamefully.

"Yes." he answered, almost smiling. "I like music a lot."


	2. Chapter 2

I know these chapters are short, but I'll try to get them out quickly to compensate for their length. I have great ideas and hope to put them to use quickly.

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Erik sat in the back of the cafeteria, hoping his presence would go unnoticed. His dark clothing helped him camouflage more into the crowd, but he couldn't hide his mask. His mask hid something far more horrible, the reason for his years of torture, his face. He kept himself always, if at all possible, at a careful distance from the rest of the human race. He didn't want another year of taunting, teasing, and constant attempts to remove his mask for another cheep laugh. Erik had never felt any sort of kindness or compassion from any human, even his own mother.

Using his peripheral vision, he saw a girl approaching his table. He kept his head down, hoping against hope she would turn and alter her course. Yet, she persisted and came up next to him.

"Hey." she said. He continued to look down at his awful excuse for food. "Maybe if I keep my head down and act like I don't notice her, she'll go away," he thought desperately.

"Mind if I sit here?" the girl asked, innocently.

"Yes, I do mind if you sit here." he snapped. "Go bother someone else and leave me be!" Oh, how dearly he wished to say these words. Instead, he made a small, indifferent movement with his hand, as though waving away a fly.

Keeping his head downward, he surveyed the girl out of the corner of his eye. To his view, she was yet another starving adolescent seeking the acceptance of an egotistical mass. "Rather pretty, though." he thought, observing her flowing dark curly hair and fair skin. The minutes passed in silence, as Erik began to speculate about his new companion.

"She seems kind enough, for the moment. Never been outside Paris, I'll wager." he thought. "Never teased much, rather shy, perhaps she's trying to make friends in her new surroundings." His musings were cut short by her sudden outburst.

"What's your name?" He glanced up at her, observing in a split second soft, hazel eyes.

"Erik." he answered. Despite himself, he was curious about this stranger who had taken an interest in him. "What's yours?"

"Myra." she replied. Out of curiosity, he racked his memory for a momenttrying to remember what the name meant.

"Myra." he repeated. "It means 'quiet song'." he thought. "What a perfect name for someone like her." Erik treated her name like a preciousstone, he wanted to remember the name of the first person who spoke to him without insulting him.To Erik's discomfort, Myra persisted in conversation.

"So, do you like music?" she asked. Myra had, unknowingly, touched on something very meaningful to him. The word music had so many different tones, shapes and forms to him. He sat up, and turned to talk with her. His first real conversation outside his immediate family.

"Yes." he answered thoughtfully. This new encounter almost brought a smile to his face for the first time. "I like music a lot."


	3. Chapter 3

I hope you like this next chapter! I really liked writing it, and so far no suspenseful endings. To answer Ane-san's question, she did get to choose, and it seemed like a good idea at the time but . . . You get the picture. Here it is!

* * *

Myra would have pursued the subject farther, but the bell rang. Discarding of the rest of her food, she hurried to class. To her surprise, Erik did not follow. She looked back at him with a mixture of curiosity and shock. "Why doesn't he come?" she thought. Lingering for only a moment, she continued to class, still thinking about the mysterious boy.

Her mind continued to dwell on Erik throughout the day. He didn't appear in any of her classes. She stared out into space during her English lessons. The language always proved so hard to learn, with it's absurd spelling and unexplainable lack of grammatical rules. "I wonder where he lives." she thought absently. "I should like to get to know him better. One can never tell what's on his mind." One thought persisted at her mind. "What is behind that mask?"

"Myra!" the teacher snapped, hitting her desk sharply with a ruler. She had been slouching with her eyes glazed over. Immediately, she shot up to attention. "Can you translate the sentence on the board?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir." she answered, as she struggled through the words. After correctly translating the sentence, she breathed a sigh of relief. "I hope this class will be over soon." she thought.

The day dragged on, each teacher introducing himself and reviewing all the information they were expected to know before starting the year. Each one would scrutinize the individual student, judging their academic ability and character. Finally, the final class was over and the students were allowed to return home and waste the remainder of the afternoon and evening doing homework.

Putting the necessary books in a large leather shoulder bag, she walked outside to wait for her parents. She noticed Erik sitting on a small stone wall outside the school. Her bag flopping along behind her, she ran to sit by him. Slightly out of breath, she let her bag fall with a thump on the wall as she pushed herself up to sit on it.

"Hey. How are you?" she asked, hoping to strike up a conversation.

"Fine." he answered, not looking at her. "How are you?"

"Fine. So, where do you live?" Erik paused for a moment, then opened his mouth to answer.

"Myra!" her mother called, loudly. Wincing slightly, she waved to Erik cheerily and ran off. Closing the door behind her, she sighed. Her conversations with Erik had only so far consisted of nothing but small talk.

"Who was that boy you were talking to?" her mother asked, quizzically.

"Just some boy." answered Myra, nervously.

"What's his name?" she asked, interrogating her daughter mercilessly.

"Erik." she said softly, intimidated.

"Why are you associating with someone like him?" her mother asked, critically. "Can't you see he's from a low-class family? I'm surprised he even got into school." She scoffed haughtily.

"He seems okay." Myra replied, trying to stand up to her mother.

They drove on in silence for some time, Myra watching out the window as the colors swirled past. Her first day of school hadn't proved to be the best. The one boy she wanted to befriend was already disapproved by her mother. She had hoped to invite him over her house some time in the future. There was a small jolt as they stopped in front of the house.

If it could still be called a house, it was a very large one. Victorian style windows looked out upon large sweeping yards covered in a kaleidoscope of colored flowers. The tall brick face that covered two stories of rooms and towers was worn down by time. The estate was surrounded by a high wrought-iron fence topped with vicious-looking spikes. To many it seemed like both a dream home and a prison. To her it was home.

Dragging her bag behind her, she walked down the old paved pathway to the front double-doors. Finally slinging her bag over her shoulder, she trudged up the wide marble staircase, using the brass railing for support. Dropping the heavy textbooks on her soft bed, she sighed heavily.

"I wonder what Erik's doing now." she said to herself.

"And I never want to see you near that 'Erik' person again!" her mother yelled up the stairs.

Grumbling, Myra took out her homework and began the laborious task that, she hoped, would keep her mind off her new enigmatic friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello there. Sorry it took a little while before updating. Thank you all for reading! The next chapter is on its way!

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The bell rang, cutting their conversation short. Myra hurried off, but Erik lingered. He would still get to class on time, but he preferred to wait until the halls were mostly clear. He noticed Myra look back at him once before continuing on her way. "What a strange girl." he thought.

After a moment or two, he moved to throw away his food. Power-walking to science, he found his way blocked by two abnormally large and muscular boys.

"Where do you think you're going?" one asked, with a menacing look.

Erik didn't speak, only tried to slip past them. Using their combined mass, the two thugs blocked any small crack he could try to slide through.

"Why do you wear that mask?" the other said, clumsily making a grab for it. Erik ducked out of the way easily. When the boy had made a grab for his mask, he took a step forward. Using this chance, Erik slid past the hooligans. He ran off quickly and silently, the two boys lumbering barbarically behind him.

He almost sprinted the rest of the way, arriving somewhat out of breath but on time. Taking his signature seat in the far corner, he regained his composure with deep controlled breaths. He was far too used to this sort of harassment to be phased much by the encounter. It had started already.

The day continued with no more encounters from the two boys, but Myra was always in his mind. She was the first human to not cringe or laugh cruelly in his presence. Although their meeting had been short, he knew he would remember it always.

At least the teachers seemed to respect his solitude, they didn't call on him at all. The final bell rang and Erik went to sit on the low wall near the street to wait for his mother. He wasn't sitting for long before Myra came up to him. She seemed to have been running. Dropping her bag on the wall next to him, she caught her breath.

"Hey. How are you?" she asked. "Why do you continue to associate with someone like me?" he thought, with a mixture of aggravation and curiosity.

"Fine." He didn't look at her, still unsure how to act toward other humans. "How are you?" "That's the polite answer, right?" he thought, unsurely.

"Fine. So where do you live?" she asked. Erik paused, unsure how to answer. He pondered his reply. "Can I really tell her where I live? It's so . . ." He opened his mouth to speak, but a loud voice interrupted him.

"Myra!" It sounded like her mother, or perhaps her nanny, who had come to pick her up. She winced at the call. "I wonder if they don't get along well." Erik thought. Myra ran off in the direction of the voice, waving cheerily to him.

Erik saw Myra's maternal figure look disdainfully at him before turning to Myra. Before driving off, he saw the guardian start interrogating her.

It wasn't long before his own mother showed up. The small car passed the entryway and stopped a little up the street. Erik walked up to where it had stopped and got in. "She's still ashamed." he thought darkly.

They rode in silence all the way. The two rarely talked anyway. He was used to it by now. They pulled up to a once-grand house.

The perimeter was surrounded by low hedges that had once been square but were now growing, unrestrained. The house itself was rather large, surrounded by a spacious overgrown lawn. The old brick face had years' worth of tarnish on it and all the windows were protected by iron bars. It had many rooms, but most were rarely used and merely collecting dust. The old manor sat in a once-grand neighborhood with all the other once-grand houses.

Erik carried his black tattered backpack up, up, up to the very top of the stairs. Getting to one of the rooms, he pulled a ladder down from a small hatch in the ceiling. He climbed up the ladder and pulled the string on the single light bulb that illuminated the attic. A poorly constructed wooden desk and a old rickety chair sat in the corner. An old bedframe was covered with a dirty moth-eaten mattress, a thinning blanket and a small pillow. Some dim light shone though a boarded up window. This small space was his room.

He was forced to live up in the attic as punishment. His mother believed he would never become anything important. She knew he would never get a job, and therefore never be an asset to the family. His punishment for this was to live apart from her, in this little attic.

Dropping his bag on the mattress, he took out his books. Taking out an old stub of a pencil with a useless black eraser from a small drawer in the desk, he began his work.. Sitting on the little rickety wooden chair, he found himself staring off into space. In spite of himself, he couldn't get his thoughts off Myra. Turning back to his homework, he attempted to make his mind focus on something else.

The light flickered for a moment before going out. In the distance he heard thunder roll. Feeling around in the darkness, he took a candle and matches out from under his bed. Lighting the candle, he turned back to his work. There was a great clap of thunder, and the downpour started. Great heavy drops pounded on the roof with relentless vigor.

Then he heard the rhythmic drip, drip of water coming through the ceiling like Chinese water torture. Groaning, he called downstairs through the trap door in the floor.

"Mom! There's a leak!"

"Then get a pot!" she shouted up.

Sighing, he went downstairs to get a container to hold the water. He returned in a moment with a small iron saucepan. He placed it underneath the leak and turned back to his homework.

After only writing two sentences of his essay, he found himself staring off into space again, thinking of Myra.

"I wonder how she's doing." he thought, resting his head on his palm. "I wonder what she's like. Actually, I hope I see her again tomorrow." Coming out of his revere, he blinked at his previous thought. He had never desired other human company before. "I hope we become friends."

"Friends." He said the word out loud, working his tongue around it. Erik liked the sound of that word. "Friends." he thought, inwardly smiling as he turned back to his essay. "This might not be such a bad year after all."


	5. Chapter 5

Hello again! Another chapter finished, I'm trying to get them up as fast as I can. Please forgive me if Erik seems at all out of character, it's not all that definite what his character is. Hope you like it!

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Myra sat at her computer typing up an essay they had to write when she heard the thunder. It sounded close, so, fearing a blackout, she hurried to print what little work she had done. Unfortunately, it wasn't quick enough. The power went out after only half a page had been printed. Sighing, she took out the work and began copying down the rest of it, as she remembered it.

Her work was far from done, and it was already 8:00. Myra's mind was constantly distracted by thoughts of Erik. Each time she found herself staring off into space again, she scolded herself and began to work double-time on whatever work she had been doing. But, around ten minutes later, she was caught staring off into space once again entertaining thoughts of her new comrade.

The rain came pouring down in buckets on the roof. Sudden flashes of lighting illuminated her work for split-seconds before the large crack of thunder rolled by. Surrounded by a multitude of scented candles, she worked hard into the night.

Around 9:30, she felt a drip of water fall on her head. She looked up and watched another drop fall on her upturned nose.

"Mom!" she called. "I think we have a leak!" Another cool drop fell on the nape of her neck. Myra heard hurried footsteps coming to the door. Her mother's face poked through the doorway.

"We have a leak." she said, pointing upward, as yet another drop fell on her head.

"Well, get out of the way while I go get a pot to catch the water. We'll have someone over to fix it tomorrow." her mother answered, zipping downstairs. Myra scooted herself and her papers away from the dripping water and continued her work.

Her mother returned shortly with a small pot. Stepping over all the candles and some discarded clothing, she placed it underneath the drip. She affectionally patted Myra on the head as she left her room.

"Get to bed soon." she commanded, slipping into the hallway. "And don't burn the house down by leaving those candles burning overnight."

Myra sighed at her mother's overprotective actions. Shaking her head, she continued to work on her science worksheet. It was the last piece of work she had left to finish that night. However, she couldn't put the pencil down until 10:00. Her work was often interrupted by more thoughts of Erik.

After getting into her pajamas and brushing her teeth and hair, she blew out the last candle and got into her soft warm bed. Myra lay there underneath her cozy comforter with her head on a fluffy goose-feather pillow, thinking more about her companion and listening to the rain upon the windows.

"I hope we can be friends." she thought before dropping off into sleep.

The next day, Myra woke up tired and grumpy at 6:00. Grumbling, she pressed the sleep button on her alarm clock. A few minutes later, it reminded her of the new day. This time, she turned it off, still very cross. She wasn't at all used to the school schedule yet.

At 6:30, her mother came in and opened the curtains wide, letting in a blast of sunlight. Groaning, she pulled the covers tightly over her head. They were ripped off her suddenly by her mother.

"Come on, get up!" her mother said, cheerily. "Time to greet the new day!" Myra opened one eye to glare at her mother.

"How can she be so perky in the morning?" she thought, tiredly. She got up and went through her morning routine. She decided on wearing a long-sleeved baby blue top with a floral print and a pair of light acid-washed jeans.

She hurried to put all the candles away, the power had come back on sometime during the night, as the clock ticked slowly closer to 7:00. At 6:55, her mother called up to her.

"Aren't you ready yet?"

"Almost!" she shouted over the hair dryer.

"Hurry up! I'm leaving in five minutes, with or without you." The five minutes came and went, with Myra still rushing to get all her books and homework into her bag.

At around five past seven, she ran to get into the car, where her mother had waited for her. The two sped off to school. They didn't speak during the ride. Myra was still a sore about being forbidden to see Erik, or rather, to be seen with him.

Her morning classes passed slowly, she was anxious for lunch to come. She didn't want to wait to see him again. She looked especially for him in the hallways and in her classes, but he was nowhere to be found.

"What if he's sick?" she thought, worried, as she walked hastily to the lunch line. She picked up her sandwich and hurried to the cafeteria. She scanned all the tops of heads for him, but she didn't see him anywhere!

"Oh, where is he?" she thought, agitated.

"Hello." said an eery voice from behind her. She leapt into the air and turned to face the voice.

"Erik!" She laughed at the trick, feeling her tenseness and worry disappear. He was smiling at her comical reaction.

"Were you waiting for anyone?" he asked.

"Just you." she answered. "Come on, let's find a seat." Myra lead the way to the same back table they had sat at the day before. For one reason or another, Erik seemed much more approachable today. They set their trays down on the table and sat down nest to each other.

"I apologize for sneaking up on you like that." he said in his soft voice. "I simply couldn't resist. You didn't even notice me." Erik smiled again, and Myra felt as though she had just been given a rare gift.

"No problem. It was funny, you really surprised me." She looked at his face fully. He wasn't looking away from her today, but right at her. She looked at his dark eyes and slicked-back hair, and the white mask that hid part of his face. "He would be rather handsome if he didn't wear that mask." she supposed.

"There was a terrible thunderstorm last night where I live." said Myra. "Did you get hit with it?"

"Yes." he answered. "And the roof leaked."

"So did mine." she replied, taking a bit out of her sandwich. "Right over my head. Did your power go out too?"

"Yes, right in the middle of my essay."

"That's when my power went out too." Myra said. "That's such a coincidence, it's like the same exact thing happened to us." Erik nodded.

"Strange." He paused, thinking, then asked, "Was that your mother who came to pick you up yesterday?"

"Yeah, dear old mum." she said, sarcastically.

"Then I take it you two don't get along?"

"We've never been close. How about your mom?" Myra asked. At this Erik looked down in the same dark way he had the other day. "Oh no, did I say something wrong?" she panicked.

"We," he paused again, "just don't interact much. She gives me space." His voice seemed a bit pained.

"Oh." she looked down and continued eating.

The two finished their lunch in silence. "What does 'space' mean?" she thought. "It seems like something happened between him and his mother, but I don't think he'd want to talk about it. Least of all with me."

After the bell rang, there was the customary rush to class. Once again, Erik hung back while Myra went on her way. "I hope he'll forgive me for what I did wrong." she thought. Myra suddenly felt just as worried as she had before.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello there. No one is reading this story except my parents, but that's okay. I like writing it and that's the point, isn't it? To all those who hopefully will read this, I hope you enjoy this next instalment of "I was a Teenage Phantom" (as my _atar_ kindly named it).

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Erik's body clock woke him. Stretching, he checked his flashing digital watch. "6:45!" he thought, and jumped up out of bed.

Speeding through his morning routine, he stuffed his papers into his backpack, crumpling them. He threw on a black shirt with a picture of an elaborate red dragon printed on the front and some black baggy pants with chains hanging off them. At approximately 6:55, Erik zipped his tattered old backpack closed, pressed down on his mask to make sure it was in place, and ran downstairs.

To his horror, his mother wasn't up yet! Dropping his bag on the floor near the front door, he ran up the stairs and into his mother's bedroom. The light was off, making him feel around in the dark for the switch. Even after the light was on, she still didn't wake up. Walking over to her bedside, he shook her gently.

"Mom." he whispered. She didn't open her eyes. "Clementina," he spoke, using her name, "wake up." She finally opened her eyes, blinking in the sudden brightness. Erik's hands were still lightly touching her on the place he had shook her.

After her eyes focused themselves on her son, she shied away from his touch. Understanding, he removed his hands from her.

"You need to drive me to school." he said, stonily.

"What time is it?" she asked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she sat up in her nightgown. Erik checked his watch.

"It's already seven o'clock." Clementina's eyes widened, then she turned to glare at her son.

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" she said, furiously. She tore her covers off and began rummaging through her wardrobe.

"I thought you were awake." he answered coldly. "You're usually up before me."

"Well I wasn't!" she snapped.

Throwing on a ruffled button-down blouse, sweat pants and sandals, she sped down the stairs, Erik following behind her. He grabbed his backpack on the way out the door, he flung himself into the passenger car seat. Still grumbling, Clementina started the car and started speeding her way through traffic toward her son's school.

"Yet another peaceful morning." he thought sarcastically. The ride passed in silence, both mother and son were sulking.

Erik's morning classes passed with little notes and little learning. He already knew a precocious amount of what they were studying. He also didn't see Myra in any of his classes.

"I think I'll try to be a little more friendly to her today." he thought, copying down the problem for math, his last class before lunch. "If we do become friends, I have to learn to interact with people." Math got out late, Erik was copying down the homework in almost illegible scribbles before hurrying to the lunch line.

He noticed Myra waiting anxiously, searching the crowd. Smiling to himself, he decided to play a little trick on her. Erik crept silently up behind her without her noticing.

"Hello." he said, making his voice as dark and foreboding as possible. He restrained the urge to laugh as Myra sprung into the air.

"Erik!" she exclaimed, laughing. He continued smiling at the little joke.

"Were you waiting for anyone?" he asked, remembering her anxious look and wondering if she had possibly met another friend during her classes.

"Just you." she answered. "Was she really that nervous when I didn't show up?" Erik wondered.

"Come on, let's find a seat." Myra led the way to the same back table they had sat at the day before.

"Remember to be friendly, conversational, and not your usual antisocial self." Erik reminded himself as he set his trey down next to Myra's.

"I apologize for sneaking up on you like that." he said. "I simply couldn't resist."

"Well, I could have resisted." he thought. "It just seemed like too much fun."

"You didn't even notice me." Erik continued, smiling again. He remembered the look of absolute surprise that came over Myra's face when he scared her.

"No problem." she said. "It was funny, you really surprised me." He made sure not to look down constantly, like he had before. Instead, he looked at her soft, caring eyes. There was a warmth in them he felt he was lacking.

"There was a terrible thunderstorm last night where I live." said Myra. "Did you get hit with it?"

"Yes." he answered, remembering the events of the previous night. "And the roof leaked."

"So did mine." she replied, as she started eating. "Right over my head. Did your power go out too?"

"Yes, right in the middle of my essay."

"That's when mine went out too." she said. "What a coincidence, it's like the same thing happened to us." Erik nodded.

"We probably have the same generator for electricity." he thought. "But it is odd that we were doing the same part of work."

"Strange." he said. Erik paused, wondering "Who was that woman who picked her up?" He resolved to ask her.

"Was that your mother who came to pick you up yesterday?"

"Yeah," she answered sarcastically, "dear old mum."

"Then I take it you two don't get along?" he asked.

"We've never been close." Myra answered. "What about your mom?" At this, Erik looked downward again. Thoughts of his mother were never pleasant.

"How can I answer her?" he thought. "What should I tell her?" 'The truth.' said the little angel on his shoulder. 'But how much of the truth do you want to tell her?' asked the little devil on his other shoulder. "Go away, you two." he thought, frustrated.

"We," he said, pausing again for thought, "just don't interact much. She gives me space." Erik tried to make his voice not betray the pain he associated with his mother.

"Oh." she answered, seeming not sure how to take the previous statement.

"By 'space' I mean she makes me live in the attic of a many-roomed house, blames me for all her suffering, and never lets me even touch her." Erik thought, as if trying to explain things to her telepathically. "And it's all because of my face." he thought darkly.

They ate in silence for the remainder of lunch. Despite Erik's previous intentions to be conversational, the subject of his mother had cut all desire for social interaction. The bell rang and Myra ran ahead as he hung back to wait for clearer hallways.

"I hope our next conversation doesn't end in such an ominous silence." Erik thought, finally moving from his seat. He made his way through the hallways, dodging other bodies, and feeling very separate from the other humans around him.


	7. Chapter 7

Review replies:

Brianna: Thank you for your encouragement! I will continue to update.

Here is the latest chapter, I hope you all enjoy it.

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Myra's afternoon classes were filled with anxious contemplation. She found it difficult to concentrate, but did her best to do the work without getting distracted. At the end of the day, after the last bell rang, Myra rushed to get her books together. Running outside, she searched for Erik's familiar face. She felt she needed to apologize to him, still feeling she had miss spoken earlier.

She found him sitting at the same place on the wall in front of school. She hastened to his side and let her bag fall heavily on the wall beside him. Erik glanced in her direction before looking back down.

"I'm really sorry for what I said earlier."she panted. "Can you forgive me?" He looked at her with a rather bemused expression on his face.

"Of course. What are you apologizing for?"

"Oh, well," she shifted her weight uncomfortably, "I thought I might have said something to make you mad, or something."

"Not at all." Erik answered.

It was only then that Myra noticed a small bruise on his left cheek. She blinked, making sure it wasn't some trick of the light. No, there was definitely a small purplish area below his eye on his cheek bone.

"What's that?" she asked, lightly touching his bruise. He winced slightly, turning away from her.

"Nothing." he said quietly and defiantly.

"Did you get into some sort of fight?" Myra persisted, concerned.

"No. I told you. It's nothing." answered Erik, in a strong voice.

"Please, Erik, tell me what happened." she replied in a worried tone.

"Forget about it." he said, waving it away with his hand. "It really is nothing to worry about."

She looked at him with a look that said, "Tell me what's going on, Erik." He sighed grudgingly before relenting.

"A couple guys didn't like the look of my face and tried to rearrange it for me." explained Erik. "I was able to escape with nothing other than this." He gingerly touched his bruise and winced.

"Oh no." Myra said. "Those bullies don't give up easily. You'll have to be on your guard."

"It's nothing I'm not used to, really." he said, reassuringly. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Okay." she answered. "I'll try not to worry." Myra saw her mom's car out in the street. Remembering her promise, she waved to Erik and hurried over to a different area of the campus.

"I promised my mom I wouldn't go near you, sorry." she thought, trying to explain the situation in her mind. "I'll tell him tomorrow." Myra made a mental note.

Her mother pulled up very close to where she was standing. The great shiny green minivan opened its door like the door to a gauntlet.

"Get in." said the cheery voice of Meliora, Myra's mother. She trudged over to the car and got in.

"How was your day?" Meliora asked, in her irritatingly cheerful voice.

"Not that bad." she answered, indifferently.

"Not 'good'?"

"It would have been better," Myra began to argue, "if I were allowed to talk to a certain someone named Erik."

"We aren't going to talk about that." she said, sternly trying to close the matter. Her daughter wouldn't let it drop.

"I still don't understand why you're so prejudice against him. You don't even know him!" she protested. "You've never even **met **him."

"He's not good enough for you." Meliora replied. Myra sighed, disgusted.

"Erik is the only friend I have at this new school." she reasoned.

"This subject is not up for debate. You are **not** allowed to see him, **ever** again." her mother said, unrelentingly. Knowing she would have to leave the argument for another day, Myra brooded for the rest of the ride.

When they pulled up to the house, Myra grabbed her bag and stomped up to her room without a word to her mother. She was determined to make her mother's life as unpleasant as possible until she yielded to her demands.

Myra went up to her room and used her homework to distract her from the argument. It worked for some time, she got three subjects done before her mind began to wander.

"I hope Erik will be alright, with those bullies chasing him." she thought, worried. "I want to help him, but I don't know what to do. What can you do about bullies?" She continued to wonder about what she could do for many minutes before she remembered her work.

But the damage had been done, she was now unable to work for more than ten minutes before again speculating about her problems. Her work wasn't done until 10:00, and she still didn't have a convincing argument against her mother nor advise for Erik.

"I am so hopeless." Myra thought, brushing her teeth. "I hope tomorrow brings more insight and less drama." Spitting, she got into a comfortable white frilly nightgown.

Getting into bed, Myra gazed up at the ceiling still pondering her situation. She was determined to at least try to do two things the next day: advise Erik about his bully problem and convince her mother to let her see Erik. However, the next day would be even more eventful than the last one.


	8. Chapter 8

No reviews, of course. But that's all good. My parents and half-sister are reading, so that's good. Thank you in advance to all those who read this story. Here's the next chapter!

* * *

Erik found the hallways a little clearer than the day before, but he noticed that all the traffic was going in the direction opposite to his. He soon found out why.

"Hey, look."said a deep, booming voice. "It's that kid with the weird mask." Erik looked up at the two gigantic masses of muscle in his path.

"Is it just me," he thought, calmly, "or do we keep running into each other at the same time of the day?"

"You got past us yesterday, scrawny," said one, ("Scrawny?" Erik thought. "I don't think I'm all that scrawny.") "but you're not getting away today."

"Oh really?" he thought. "I may be a little on the small side, but I'm probably faster than the two of you put together."

The one that just spoke made a grab for him and missed. Erik ducked under the outstretched arm and made a run for the empty hallway in front of him. The other bully blocked his way by stretching out his arms. He tried ducking under an arm, but was caught in the gut. One of the bullies pinned him to the wall while the other took a great swing at the left side of his face. It hit painfully on his cheekbone. Before they could get another blow in, Erik escaped their grasp by sliding downwards on the wall and sprinting off down the hallway. His speed came in handy as he left the two hooligans in the dust.

Erik flew in the classroom door just as the bell rang, out of breath, but safe. He collapsed into his seat, automatically calming his breathing. He felt a bruise forming where he had been hit, and touched the spot gingerly. Erik winced, breathing in sharply.

"That's going to leave a mark." he thought.

The rest of classes were mostly like the other day. The teachers didn't call on him, he didn't volunteer answers, and copied notes only on things he didn't know or had trouble remembering. After the last bell rang, Erik got his books together for the night's worth of homework, and went outside. He sat at the same place on the wall as the day before. It was already becoming a habit.

Only seconds after he sat down, Myra rushed over to him. "What if she asks more about my mother?" he thought, worried. He glanced at her before looking down again.

"I'm really sorry for what I said earlier." Myra said, panting. "Can you forgive me?"

"What on earth is she talking about?" he thought, confused and surprised.

"Of course." Erik answered. "What are you apologizing for?"

"Oh, well," she looked awkwardly at the ground and shifted her weight, "I thought I might have said something to make you mad, or something."

"Not at all." he said. "I still don't know what she's talking about." thought Erik. Myra looked curiously at his left cheek and blinked once. "Oh no." he thought. "Did they leave a bruise? They probably did."

"What's that?" she asked, touching the tender spot. He winced and turned away from her. "Yeah, they definitely left a bruise." Erik thought.

"Nothing." he answered, defiantly.

Myra persisted on the subject. "Did you get into some sort of fight?"

"No. I told you. It's nothing." he said, sternly. Erik persisted on closing the matter.

"Please, Erik, tell me what happened." she replied in a concerned tone.

"Forget about it. It really is nothing to worry about." Erik waved the matter away with his hand, as though it were a fly.

Myra gave him a look that said, "Come on, tell me." He sighed in defeat before answering.

"A couple guys didn't like the look of my face and tried to rearrange it for me." he explained. "I was able to escape with nothing other than this." Again, Erik touched the bruise on his cheek as a way of indicating to it. He winced once again, the pain a reminder to leave that area alone.

"Oh no." she said, worried. "Those bullies don't give up easily. You'll have to be on your guard."

"It's nothing I'm not used to, really." Erik assured her. "This has happened to me so often, I lost count around five hundred." he thought. "It really was just a matter of time before my living hell started again."

"It's nothing to worry about." he said.

"Okay." Myra answered. "I'll try not to worry." She glanced at the street and began hurrying to another part of the campus. Myra waved cheerily to him as she ran. Erik noticed Myra's mother's car out in the street.

"I wonder what happened between them." he thought, curiously. Erik observed them start to argue again before the car pulled out. "They really do argue a lot."

It was a few minutes before his mother drove up to the school, or rather, drove past and waited for Erik to follow. She merely glanced at his bruise and said nothing. He had been thinking about asking her if Myra could ever come over their house. Finally, he resolved to ask her. They were about halfway home.

"Um, Mom?" he started tentatively.

"What?" she asked, expressionless.

"Would it be alright if I brought a friend home from school some day?" asked Erik, somewhat embarrassed.

"Hmf." Clementina replied, indifferently. "What makes you think I care about what you do?"

He was quiet. "I suppose that means yes." thought Erik.

The rest of the ride was conducted in silence. Erik was thinking of what the two of them might do if she ever came over his house. What if she asked about his room? What would he say then? And what could they really do other than talk? There really wasn't much to do up in that little attic. His head was swimming with questions and doubts. The car pulled up the driveway.

Grabbing his ragged backpack, he went up to his room. Turning on the light, he got out his homework and some notes from the day. He tried to concentrate, but he was often interrupted by thoughts of the imagined time together. Erik started going so far as to imagine conversations before he remembered his unfinished homework. Almost gasping out loud, he began to work as quickly as possible.

"But what if she doesn't want to come?" thought Erik, distracted almost before he started again. "What if she is just pretending to be my friend? . . . oh no, homework!" Again, he worked double-time to try to finish soon. Glancing at his watch, he saw the blinking lights read 8:00.

"I've even skipped dinner!" he thought, as his stomach growled.

Erik ignored it and continued working. Several minutes later, it growled again. Sighing at the inconvenience, he went downstairs to get something to eat. The small refrigerator contained old cheese, some rancid meat, a few odd vegetables and a carton of milk. Nothing to make a meal out of. He moved on to the pantry. In here Erik found canned soups, some chips, olives, sugary cereal, potatoes, cookies, bread, cake mix, a rack containing old wines, and a cup of ramen that could be microwaved with water. He decided on the ramen. Filling it with water up to the mark, he put it in the microwave for three minutes. Erik watched it go round and round, counting down the seconds until it was finished. The microwave beeped and he took the hot styrofoam cup out. Stirring it with a fork, he leaned against the kitchen counter and ate his dinner.

Sipping up the last of the broth, he threw the dirty fork in the sink on top of the other dirty dishes and put the cup in the trash. Erik checked his watch, it read 8:30. Well, 8:28 if you want to be exact. He hurried up the stairs, down the hall to the ladder, and then up into his room. The waning lightbulb cast dim shadows around the room.

His homework wasn't completed until around 10:45. Finally throwing down his pencil, he stretched and let out a sigh of relief. Slipping on some dark cotton pajamas, he went down the ladder to the bathroom. While brushing his teeth, Erik looked at his bruise. It was a dark purple color, and still hurt to touch. Only then did he remember his incident with the bullies.

"It would be overly optimistic to think they won't bother me again." thought Erik. "But perhaps," he began to scheme, "I can do something to them to make them stop hunting me."

Erik spit out the toothpaste and began planning the 'accident' that would befall the two bullies the next day. He began preparing the contraption in his mind, carefully planning every step of the operation. His mind had some mechanical genius that he rarely was able to use. He took this advantage to produce a fool-proof gadget that would not need manual work to activate, unless it was from a fare distance. Putting some lengths of strong rope, pulleys, and other odd things of his own creation at the bottom of his backpack and concealing them with books and binders, he pulled the blanket over himself and turned off the light.

Smiling silently to himself, Erik dropped off into a very contented sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Hello there! I deeply apologize for not updating for so long, I was away in Michigan. Tomorrow I leave on a flight for Chicago and then middle-of-nowhere Canada, so I shall not update for at least another ten to twelve days. bows I humbly ask your patience for that time. Here is the chapter!

* * *

A limp hand reached to turn off the alarm clock. Myra's eyes were bloodshot, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. She hadn't been able to get any sleep that night. Sometimes she was able to doze, but she always woke from the nightmare panting with cold sweat covering her face. Myra's anxiety over Erik was immense. There were great black shadows under her drooping eyes.

Her mother Meliora came into her room and flipped on the light.

"Rise and shine!" she chirped. Myra simply rolled over, not having the energy to glare at her mother.

"Five more minutes." moaned a tired voice.

"Out of the question." Meliora replied, sternly. She walked tersely out of the room, leaving the door open.

Myra's nerves were numb with tiredness. Scuffing her feet, she almost walked into the open door. Jolting her head upwards, she continued her sleepy walk to the bathroom. "Maybe a shower will wake me up." she thought, yawning.

Letting the warm water wash over her, Myra tried to regain her senses. "If I am to be any use today," she reasoned, "I must be at least halfway awake."

She turned the water on icy cold. Her eyes widened and she yelped, jumping out of the way of the cold water. Quickly, she turned it back to a comfortable warm. "Okay, I'm awake." she thought, breathlessly.

Drying her wet hair with a towel, Myra surveyed her image. She still had heavy shadows under her eyes and looked a bit pale. Myra used a bit of concealer to hide it as best it could. She checked her watch, the hands read 6:30, or around that. Shaking herself a little to ward off a betraying yawn, she got dressed.

In the car, Myra had something of a premonition. She felt like something, she couldn't tell whether it was going to be good or bad, but something significant was going to happen that day. Maybe as soon as she got in the door, or maybe just as she was leaving it, but something was going to happen. Myra resolved to find Erik during homeroom and tell him about it.

Waving a hasty goodbye to her mother, she went in search of her companion. Luckily, she found him just inside the front hallway.

"Hey, Erik, wait up!" she called to him. He stopped and turned her way.

"Funny, we don't see each other often this time of day." Erik remarked.

"Yes. I just had something I wanted to tell you." Myra caught her breath and composed herself.

"Are you alright?" asked Erik, concerned. "You look a bit pale."

"Oh, I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night." she said.

"What did you want to tell me?"

"Well, I had something of a premonition. I think something big is going to happen today." Myra answered, in all seriousness.

"Was this premonition of yours good or bad?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I think it could be either, it just depends on how you look at it."

"I see." replied Erik. He seemed to be thinking about something. "I have to go. I'll see you at lunch, alright?" He called, walking away as he spoke.

"Yeah, see 'ya." Myra said, hurrying off to her homeroom.

She struggled to stay awake all morning. Myra did her best to pay attention, but sometimes caught herself dozing off. Suddenly, in the middle of math class, she realized something more.

"It'll be after lunch."

"And what," the teacher asked through pursed lips, "will be after lunch?"

"Oh, nothing." Myra laughed, nervously. "I really didn't mean to say that out loud." she thought. Myra had understood her premonition farther, or perhaps had another one, and understood that the mysterious event would occur, like she had said, after lunch.

Now she was fully awake, pondering anxiously what might happen. "Good or bad?" she kept asking herself. "Good or bad?"

At lunch, she did her best to speed through the line and get to her customary seat at the very back table. Despite her efforts, Erik was there before her.

"After lunch." Myra said softly in his ear. "It will happen after lunch." She felt very excited and anxious for the event. Her masked companion seemed to share her excitement.

"I can't wait." he answered, just as softly. "What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know." The two were whispering unnecessarily. Any stranger who would happen to be eavesdropping wouldn't have the slightest idea what they were saying. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I'm not that sure." Erik replied, resting his head on his hand in thought. "But I think it might have something to do with _that_." He gestured to a thin cord draped over the nearby flagpole. Myra stared at it with astonishment.

"I didn't see _that_ before." she said, already wondering it's purpose. Following it with her eyes, it seemed to drape from invisible nails along the wall and continue out of the cafeteria.

"What do you think it does?" asked Myra, thinking a little out loud. "Do you think we should follow it and see what it leads to?"

"No," Erik answered, definitively, "I think it would be much more amusing to let this thing run it's course."

"Amusing?" she asked, catching his curious use of words. "Why do you say amusing?"

"Hm?" he answered, seeming not to understand.

"You said 'it would be more _amusing_ to let this thing run it's course.' " she explained. "Why did you use the word amusing?"

"Did I?" answered Erik, absently. "I meant to say 'interesting'. It was just a little slip of the tongue." He began eating.

"Oh," Myra said, also starting to eat, "I see."

The truth was that she did not 'see', and suspected that the word hadn't been a slip of the tongue as Erik had dismissed it. No, Myra believed that Erik knew something about the event-to-come, even perhaps that he had planed it. He couldn't have sat down more than a minute before she arrived, and no wandering eye would pick up on that small detail of the cord. The rope was far too thin to be noticed offhand, you practically had to squint to see it at all from where they were seated. Erik had to know something, but she wasn't prepared to pry it from him.

"You said you didn't get much sleep." Erik said, bringing her out of her thoughts. "Why was that?"

"Oh, no reason really." Myra answered, casually. "My body just felt like being an insomniac for the night, nothing I could do."

"Ah ha." He paused for a moment in indecision. "Um, I've been thinking of asking you . . ." Erik paused again, looking downward in embarrassment.

"Yes, what?" She egged him on.

"Ifyouwouldliketocomeovermyhouseforalittlewhile." Deciphering the words, she carefully formulated her answer.

"I," Myra paused, remembering her mother. "I would be delighted to come. When were you thinking of getting together?"

"This weekend, actually." Erik answered, seeming somewhat relieved. "Would after school on Friday be alright?"

"Well, today's Wednesday, so I think that should be sufficient warning for my Mom." Myra agreed. "I'll just have to lie to her, say I'm going with some girlfriend." she thought, uncomfortably. It never felt good when she lied to her mother.

"Great." he answered. Just then, the bell rang. To her surprise, Erik hurried off, making his way silently through the crowd.

"I wonder what he's in such a hurry for." Myra thought, her eyes lingering on the cord. Suddenly, the cord disappeared right under her eyes. She blinked, but it was gone.

"It's starting!" she thought, almost squealing with anticipation. Myra hurried to throw away her trash and practically skipped to her next class.

Unbeknownst to all, a dark shadow slipped noiselessly through the hallway, with a very thin cord in its hand.


	10. Chapter 10

I'm back and updating as often as I can. This chapter was revised because my editor (_nin atar_) said it was too unlikely that Erik would get away with setting up so much without getting caught. I thank those reviewing this story, it is very fun to write and even more fun when others read it.

* * *

Erik woke, refreshed and completely awake. This was a rare thing, but he had had a particularly good night's sleep. It seemed he had woken up a little earlier than usual and decided to take a shower. He put his mask on and hurried down the ladder with a change of clothes over his shoulder. Once Erik got to the bathroom, he flung his clothes for the day on the toilet and reached through the shower curtain to turn on the water.

The bathroom had all the essentials: toilet, sink, mirror, and a shower-bath. Yellowish tiles covered the floor and the walls were a plain white. A few of the tiles in the floor were a little cracked and the bath obviously wasn't brand new. Small cobwebs had lodged themselves in all the corners of the room and several beady black spiders scuttled restlessly around their nests.

Testing the water and finding it satisfactory, Erik removed his mask, placing it on the counter, undressed and got into the shower. He was scarcely humming as he washed his hair. Anyone who had known Erik for any space of time before he met Myra would never have recognized him. He hadn't been in such a good mood since, since he was born. When Myra came into his life, marvelous and strange things had began happening to Erik. In short, the eternal winter that had reigned in his heart had started to thaw.

He turned off the water and took a towel out from the cabinet. Fluffing his hair with the towel, Erik put his mask on and dressed himself in his favorite color, black. In truth, he most likely didn't own anything that wasn't black. He had believed it reflected his mood and personality better than any other color.

Erik threw the used towel unceremoniously over a holder, grabbed his pajamas and went back up to his room. On the way, he popped his head through his mother's doorway to make sure she was awake.

"I don't need a wake-up call in the morning, thank you." Clementina snapped at him, as soon as she noticed his head in the door. He slipped back out and continued his ascent to the little room.

Quickly and quietly, Erik took out a roll of blueprint paper from a drawer in his desk and rolled it out flat. Grabbing a white chalk pencil, he began hurriedly scribbling on it. Already drawn was a blueprint of the entire school, containing notes of all the heating pipes, water pipes, and electrical wiring. He drew a few arrows, pointing out the routes he was going to take, made indecipherable drawings and often checked in his backpack to see if he had the needed equipment. Once he was satisfied with the blueprint, Erik studied it carefully. Muttering to himself, he traced the route with his index finger, tapping certain places in the floor where his drawings were. "This is going to take quite some time to set up." he thought, glancing once more over the dark blue paper. "I hope I won't have to skip too many classes."

Rolling up the blueprint and shoving it in his bag, Erik groped under his bed for a moment and pulled out some electrical wires. Stuffing that too into his backpack, which was now full to bursting, he swung it over his shoulder and ambled downstairs.

His mother was already waiting for him in the car with the engine purring. The ride was silent, Erik simply looked out the window, watching the colors fly by, refining his plot. He had barely entered the school when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Erik, wait up!" It was Myra. He was a little surprised to have run into her. He stopped and turned to face her.

"Funny, we don't see each other often this time of day." he said, casually.

"Yes. I just had something I wanted to tell you." She caught her breath. It always seemed like she was running to catch him, like the last bird in a flock that tries to catch up to the rest. To Erik's eyes, she looked like the walking dead. Her eyes were bright red with dark shadows under her eyes and she was as pale as a ghost. He settled on being polite.

"Are you alright?" he asked, in a concerned tone that was most unlike him. "You look a bit pale."

"Oh, I'm fine." Myra said, tucking a hair behind her ear. "I just didn't get much sleep last night."

"What did you want to tell me?"

"Well, I had something of a premonition. I think something big is going to happen today." Erik would have given her a skeptical look if she hadn't said this in such seriousness.

"Was this premonition of yours good or bad?" he answered, trusting her sixth sense.

"I'm not sure. I think it could be either, it just depends on how you look at it." replied Myra.

"I see." Erik wondered if it could have something to do with the trick he was planning. "I have to go. I'll see you at lunch alright?" he said, walking away.

"Yeah, see 'ya." she called, hurrying off in the opposite direction.

Disregarding the bell, Erik hurried down the hallway, purposely scuffing his feet. He found the group of loose floor tiles he had been looking for and bent down to examine what was underneath them. "Just as I had hoped." he thought, slightly smiling to himself.

He unzipped his bag and took out some wires, odd rectangles of reflective metal and stands for them. Also, he attached some mismated contraption to the floor tiles he had removed. Setting those aside, he cast furtive glances up and down the corridor. After listening intently for a moment, Erik concluded that the coast was clear and began working.

He was less than half-way done with that portion of preparation when the bell rang. Hurriedly replacing the floor tiles, he stood to one side of the hallway as the rest of students passed him without a glance. Only after the second bell had rung did he feel safe to begin working again.

It wasn't long before an authoritative voice sounded behind him.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Erik looked up to see the gangly form of the old tenth grade science teacher. His thin grey hair was pressed down tightly to his head and the light glinted off his bald forehead. He was glaring at Erik over thick-rimmed bifocals.

"Um, well, you see, Mr. Creasy, sir," Erik began, trying not to look overly guilty while slipping the floor tiles back in place behind his back, "I was just going to the bathroom when I noticed these tiles were loose, so I, um, wanted to, er, put them back into place." he stammered.

Leaning to see behind him, Mr. Creasy scrutinized the tiles Erik had indicated.

"They don't look loose to me." he answered, looking suspicious.

"But they are, sir." Erik protested. "Only I've put them back into place so well you can't tell they were loose."

"Let me be frank with you, my boy." The old man took him around the shoulder and forcefully led him down the hallway. Erik hastily scooped up the remainder of his materials and discreetly shoved them in his jacket pocket. "I don't believe a word of what you just said. But if you tell me what you were really up to, I might let you off easy."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir." he answered, shaking himself of the old man's deathlike grip. "I'm under oath not to tell a soul."

"Oh, so someone's put you up to this, have they?" Mr. Creasy asked, happily. Erik made a show of looking like he'd said too much. "Well, then, if you tell me who it was then I'll let you go on your way."

Erik looked around hesitantly, as though he might be watched. Looking defeated, he began to speak in a somewhat regretting tone.

"They didn't tell me their names." he began. "One of them had brown hair and a tattoo of a skull on his left shoulder. The other one had red spiky hair and a glare that could freeze your blood." Erik shivered slightly, hoping his lies were convincing enough. "They told me I wouldn't be disturbed and not to worry about a hall pass. I suppose they lied about that." Mr. Creasy pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at Erik in a way that showed he was satisfied.

"You did the right thing, ma' boy." He patted him on the back. "Now, go on back to class."

Erik walked down the hallway in the direction of his English class, not daring to look back to see if the teacher had left. Secretly, he thanked his luck at getting caught by one of the softer teachers in the school. Only after he had turned the corner did he stop and listen intently at the fading footsteps of Mr. Creasy. Once he was sure the old man was out of hearing distance, he crept stealthily back to his post.

This time, he hastened to do as much as he could and was able to finish his work on the floor before the bell rang again, signaling that he had missed yet another period. Erik was greatly thankful that, being one in a class of around thirty, he wasn't missed.

Following the crowd a little, he stopped outside the janitor's closet. Behind his back, he checked to see if it was locked; it wasn't. After the second bell had rung and the corridor was clear of all other human life, Erik opened the door and searched for a ladder. He found one quickly and brought it out, knocking over as little as he possibly could. Moving it over to a predetermined place underneath the ceiling, he climbed up it and removed the tile, placing it on the top of the ladder. This particular ceiling was made up of many removable foam-like tiles, perfect for what he had in mind.

Climbing back down, he retrieved a length of rope, measured how much he would need, and tied a noose on one end. Poking a hole through one end of the foam tile from the ceiling, he slipped a very thin cord through it and tied the cord tightly to the rope with the noose. Next he poked a slanted hole in the other side of the foam tile so that the thin cord came down from the top, yet exited through the side. Neatly coiling up the rope, he placed it inside the ceiling and replaced the tile. The thin cord stretched over to the next tile down the hallway. Removing two more tiles, he placed irregular metal mechanisms that contained two long thin stainless-steel poles that poked through the foam with small metal bars that pressed into the grey foam and some complicated masses of ropes and pulleys that were stowed inside the ceiling.

Next, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Erik began the laborious task of moving the ladder one tile down, moving the cord to the next tile, then moving the ladder again, until he was all the way to the hallway that leads to the lunch kitchen, and without passing the front office. Luckily, no wandering student or teacher had caught him yet. The bell rang again, and Erik closed up the ladder and leaned it precariously against the wall. Once again, he simply stood there and let the other students pass. A pack of girls looked at him, then whispered behind their hands to their friends, giggling in a suppressed way. He did his best not to heed them.

Again, after the second bell rang, Erik took out the ladder and reached up to get the cord. This time, however, he took it down with him. Leaning the ladder against the wall, he brought out transparent nails which he nailed at intervals into the wall, taking them all the way into the cafeteria. Then he draped the cord carefully over the nails and flung it over the flagpole.

Erik stood back, admiring his handiwork. He gave a small, malicious chuckle as he thought of the two unfortunate bullies. Just then, the bell rang for lunch. Conveniently in the area, Erik waited only a moment before getting into line for food. There was still very few people about when he traversed the tables to get to the one in the very back he and Myra had made their own. It wasn't very long before Myra pushed her way through the lunchroom and sat down next to him.

"After lunch." she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It will happen after lunch." It took Erik a moment to realize what she was saying, but he remembered her talk about a premonition. Perhaps it really did have to do with his trick, that was happening after lunch too.

"I can't wait." he answered, maintaining the sense of confidentiality by whispering. "What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"I'm not sure." he replied, resting his head on his hand in what he hoped was a thoughtful expression. Erik decided to give her a hint. "But I think it might have something to do with _that_." He pointed at the thin cord that he had draped over the flagpole for easy access.

"I didn't see _that_ before." Myra answered, following it's progress with her eyes. "What do you think it does?" she asked. "Do you think we should follow it and see what it leads to?"

"No," said Erik, "I think it would be much more amusing to let this thing run its course."

"Amusing?" she asked, looking at him suspiciously. "Why do you say amusing?"

"Hm?" He pretended to look like he didn't understand. "Crap, I didn't say that, did I?" Erik thought in dismay.

"You said 'it would be more _amusing_ to let this thing run it's course.' " Myra repeated his words. ("It looks like I did." he thought. "Great work Erik, way to blow your cover.") She continued, "Why did you use the word amusing?"

"Did I?" answered Erik, trying to sound casual. "I meant to say 'interesting'. It was just a little slip of the tongue." He said, and started eating his lunch.

"Oh," she said, also beginning to eat, "I see."

They ate in silence for a little while, Myra seemed to be lost in thought.

"You said you didn't get much sleep." Erik said, seemingly interrupting her thoughts. "Why was that?"

"Oh, no reason really." she answered. "My body just felt like being an insomniac for the night, nothing I could do."

"Ah ha." Erik had not forgotten his desire to invite Myra over his house, but he hadn't yet decided on asking her. In a moment's pause, he resolved to ask her.

"Um, I've been thinking of asking you . . ." Erik paused again, looking downward, a little embarrassed at what he was about to say.

"Yes, what?" She encouraged him to continue.

"Ifyouwouldliketocomeovermyhouseforalittlewhile." He had said the words so quickly, wanting to get them over with. Now, however, he was shaming himself for rushing and making the request almost undecipherable.

"I," Myra paused, for a moment, and Erik wondered if she was about to refuse. "I would be delighted to come. When were you thinking of getting together?"

"This weekend, actually." he answered, greatly relieved that he hadn't been rejected. "Would after school on Friday be alright?"

"Well, today's Wednesday, so I think that should be sufficient warning for my Mom."she agreed.

"Great." he answered, his good mood returning.

The bell rang, Erik's cue to disappear. He hurried to throw his trash away and grabbed the cord. It slipped noiselessly over the smooth transparent nails. As silently and quickly as a shadow, Erik slipped through the hallway with the thin cord wrapped around his hand.


	11. Chapter 11

Another chapter done. Sigh, I hope this one meets my editor's expectations. No,you still don't know what Erik's trick is yet, but the next chapter will explain it all! Happy reading!

* * *

Myra fidgeted restlessly in her seat as the woman in front of her droned on in a tedious monotone. Her classic green business suit and curly scarlet hair that was tied up in a messy bun gave her the uncanny resemblance to a female leprechaun.

"And then you let the mixture dry. Now be sure to only make this in small quantities because . . . blah blah blah." Science never was one of her favorite subjects, and now it was keeping her from finding out about her premonition!

She drummed her nails impatiently on the desk. "I've got to get out of here!" she thought.

"Excuse me, Ms. Kent?" Myra asked, raising her hand habitually. The woman turned away from the chalkboard on which she had just been writing.

"Yes, Myra?"

"Um, could I go to the bathroom?" Ms. Kent looked at her in a motherly-scolding way.

"You should have gone during lunch."

"I didn't have to go then." she protested.

"Very well, but be quick about it." The woman ended up calling after her as she ran down the hall in the direction of the bathroom.

She stopped, realizing her predicament. The school was very large, with two massive floors, seemingly endless hallways and unnumberable classrooms. Myra often got lost on her way to classes and ended up asking some upperclassman directions. How did she expect to find some mysterious event without knowing even what floor it was supposed to take place on! The most likely scenario was that she would set off in any old direction, end up getting lost and miss the rest of class. Sighing dejectedly, Myra was just about to go back to class when she heard a noise.

Bang! Bang! Where was it coming from? She stood there, not moving a muscle. Not even breathing, she listened intently. She waited there, and for a little while, nothing happened.

Bang! Bang! There it was again! Myra ran off in the direction she believed the noise had come from. Remembering her worries about getting lost, she counted and remembered the turns. "Left, right, right again." she thought, still sprinting and straining her ears for any other telltale sounds.

Myra paused, breathing heavily. She thought she had heard a noise . . . yes! A small sound, very soft . . . the whir of machinery! Once again, she set off in the direction of the noise. She was very close now, the sound was louder than ever. It was right around the corner, she knew it! Myra turned that last corner to find . . . the janitor?

No, an electrician working on the long rectangular light. One of the bulbs had fizzed. He was putting the new light in place. The banging had been the sound of the cover dropping off the ladder and the whirring was the drill used to take out the bulb. This couldn't have been what she was looking for, no way! It was as ordinary as changing a lightbulb.

The electrician hadn't noticed her footsteps over the sound of the drill in his ears. Myra turned around dejectedly and began walking back. But then she realized, in her hurry, she hadn't been keeping track of her turns after she heard the whirr of the drill!

"Oh, great." she said, sarcastically. "Now what do I do?" She looked back and forth down the hallway she had just come from, trying to remember which way she had been going.

Hoping her poor sense of direction was correct, she set off down the corridor, looking for familiar landmarks. She found none. Groaning with frustration, she began jogging, still searching for something she could recognize.

Myra was constantly looking left and right, hoping to find something in the scenery helpful. She didn't notice the two figures coming down the hall like steamrollers.

"Ahh!" she cried, as she was bowled over. Apparently, the two boys hadn't been looking where they were going either. With a resounding thud, the mess of limbs fell to the floor. Myra was crushed under the weight, hardly able to breathe.

Suddenly, a hand reached under the chaos and pulled her to safety. Over her heavy breathing, she heard a familiar voice.

"Myra, are you alright?" She looked up to see Erik, seeming concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She looked down at the two boys as they tried to untangle themselves. They looked ghostly white and terrified. "But I don't know about them."

Now that the boys had stood up, she noticed that they were quite tall and extremely muscular. They looked like great lumbering trolls, and the type of people that wouldn't be scared easily. Yet there they were, looking like a couple of frightened rabbits. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Erik smiling.

"Well, ah," he started to whisper, sounding a little awkward, "these are the two I was talking to you about." Myra blinked, remembering Erik's bully problem she had been hoping to fix. However, it didn't seem like much of a problem anymore.

"Oh, well, um," she stammered, not sure what to make of the situation. "Ah, are you two alright?" she asked, looking at the two bullies.

"Fine, fine." one of them said, in a gruff voice. They were still very pale.

"Okay, do you know the way to classroom 53?" Myra asked, hoping they would have a better sense of direction than her own.

"Huh? Oh, right down there." the other one answered, pointing down a hallway not two steps from where they were. She cursed her terrible navigational skills.

"Thank you." she said, politely. Nodding slightly, the two boys hurried off down the hallway rather stiffly. "And thank you," she turned to Erik, "for pulling me out from under there. How did you know I was here?" If she wasn't so shocked at the previous events, Myra might have been suspicious at Erik's sudden appearance.

"I was just wandering a little when I heard your cry, and came running." he answered casually. "And you, I suppose, were out searching for whatever your premonition was?" Myra nodded. "I thought so. I believe that, what just happened, was it, so you'd best get back to class."

Smiling sheepishly, she waved to Erik and jogged the five steps to the classroom door.

"Well you certainly took your time getting back." scolded Ms. Kent.

"Sorry, got lost." Myra apologized quickly, taking her seat. Nodding curtly, Ms. Kent continued her lecture.

"Well that was quite an adventure." she thought. "I run off, following a false alarm, get lost, and bump into what I was looking for. Actually, I didn't bump into it, it ran me over." She stared vacantly at the blackboard. "Lucky Erik was there, I might've been crushed. But, it's rather convenient he was so close-by, a little too much of a coincidence." Myra's suspicions were aroused. "I'm not much of an interrogator, but I think I'll confront him about it after school."

She began copying down the night's homework as the bell rang, groaning because it looked like a lot. Hurrying to her next class, she began wondering how to bring it up. "If he really did have something to do with it, he'd be hesitant to trust anyone with the information. I've got to let him know that I won't tell a soul, because I wouldn't do that to a friend like him. I'd like to get to know him better, but I have to earn his trust."

Feeling very determined, Myra looked around her for the next turn. She blinked, but found she didn't know where she was. "Shit." she thought dejectedly, "not again."


	12. Chapter 12

**Review Replies:**

**PhantomsxAngelxofxMusic: Yes, I love cliffhangers, don't you? I'm glad you like my story! And now you get to know what Erik's trick really did!**

**I know I led you on so long about that. I love being cruel to my readers.**

* * *

Erik went to the spot where he usually met the bullies, or rather, just around the corner from the spot. He heard giant, heavy footsteps. It was time.

He slipped into view of the hallway. Sure enough there the two bullies were, itching for a fight.

"There he is!" one of them shouted, pointing at Erik. Immediately, the two lumbered off in his direction.

With surprising agility, he ran to the end of the next hallway, using the same trick he had before. The wild goose chase continued like this for some time, Erik always seeming just out of their reach, or just behind the next corner.

"After him!" gasped the bully with a skull tattoo on his left shoulder. Erik was leading them on, as silently as a spectral shade, leading them just where he wanted.

Finally, after chasing the phantom over half the school, the two paused for breath, right over a chalk-drawn "x" that was barely visible. Erik smiled and pulled the cord.

Instantly, a noose fell from the ceiling and caught one of the two bullies by the neck. In the same second, thick mirror walls shot up in front of and behind where they were standing, forming a small hexagonal room. They were trapped. The bullies stared wildly at their own frightened reflections as a resounding voice spoke.

"Hello there." it said, sounding as though it were withing the walls themselves. "I've been watching you. It seems that you haven't been very kind to a boy here who wears a mask." Now the voice sounded in the hung bully's left ear. "His name is Erik."

Erik gave a slight tug on the cord in his hand, strangling a little more of the breath out of the bully with spiky red hair caught in the noose. His friend vainly tried to get the rope off him.

"Now, let me make this very clear." The voice was now in the hung bully's right ear. "I don't care about your lives," now the voice was behind one of the mirrored walls, "but I do care about his." The free bully pounded against the wall in which the voice seemed to reside, but now the voice came from behind him. What was it saying now? "If anything happens to Erik, whether you hurt him or even if it's an accident, it will happen to you **ten times worse.**"

In desperation, fearing for both the life of his friend and his own, the boy with the skull tattoo cried out to the voice, "Anything, just let us go!"

Now the voice was above them, in the ceiling. It was laughing! And what a laugh! No happy chuckle, but an evil, cruel and heartless laugh, that sends chills up and down your spine and makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck every time you hear it. The choked voice of the scarlet-haired boy pleaded with it, but the rope around his neck was only pulled tighter, strangling the last of the air out of him.

Then, just as sudden as the trap had been pulled, all was released. The mirrored walls disappeared back into the floor and the noose released its iron grip and disappeared into the ceiling. Everything looked as it had before, it was nothing but an ordinary hallway.

Chancing a peak, Erik poked his head around the corner. The one with red hair was being helped to his feet by the one with the tattoo, both faces as white as sheets. "Ventriloquism certainly comes in more handy than people think." he thought, smiling slightly to himself.

He heard their footsteps thundering off when he heard a yell.

"Ahh!" It was Myra's voice! He hurried after the sound and found her trapped and winded underneath the large bodies of his victims. Reaching under their struggling bodies, he pulled her out of the frey.

"Myra, are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she answered breathlessly. She looked down at the two who had just bowled her over. "But I don't know about them."

Now that Erik saw them clearly, he could see the terrified looks on their faces. "They won't be bothering me again." he thought, smiling for a split second. He did his best to act normally.

"Well, ah, those are the two I was talking to you about." he replied, whispering so they wouldn't overhear. She blinked once, seeming not to remember their conversation at first. Then, a look of realization and awkwardness filled her face.

"Oh, well, um," Myra stammered, stunned. She turned to the two boys. "Ah, are you two alright?"

"Fine, fine." the one with red hair stammered, gruffly.

"Okay, do you know the way to classroom 53?" she asked. "It seems like she's gotten lost." Erik thought. "I'm very thankful for those blueprints."

"Huh? Oh, right down there." the other answered, pointing down a nearby hallway. She squinted, scolding herself.

"Thank you." Myra replied, politely. The two boys hurried down the hallway, in an unnatural, jerky manor. "And thank you," she turned to face Erik, "for pulling me out from under there. How did you know I was here?" He tried to think of yet another convincing lie, which wasn't hard considering how much practice he had.

"I was just wandering a little when I heard your cry, and came running." he answered. Remembering her suspicious premonition, he realized that she hadn't been out on some innocent trip to the bathroom. "And you, I suppose, were out searching for whatever your premonition was?" She nodded mutely. "I thought so. I believe that, what just happened, was it, so you'd best get back to class."

Smiling a little guiltily, she jogged over to the classroom door. He heard the schoolteacher's scolding tone and Myra's false apology through the cracked door.

Once again smiling to himself, he headed off toward the bathroom. That was another thing he seemed to be doing more often: smiling. Before this week, a smile was unheard of, an impossible expression that never crossed his face. His actions seemed to be surprising him every time he entered the school. Was this change good? Bad? It was unexpected to say the least. Erik remembered an odd saying he had once heard: when all the snow melts, it becomes spring. Was Myra the spring that melted his ice-cold heart?

The bell rang, and he hurried off to class. One thing was for certain: he would never forget her, as long as he lived.


	13. Chapter 13

**Review Replies:**

**PhantomsxAngelxofxMusic: Please don't Punjab me! I'm writing, see!**

**whispering-voices: No, that wasn't the last chapter. I have _many_ more chapters planned. And no, Myra isn't taking Christine's place, but they are related. However, her relationship to Christine will be explained later. (Probably much later, so you can keep guessing.)**

**Okay so thank you to those two people who reviewed and to any others who read and review in the future! Here is chapter lucky 13!**

**P.S. I'm leaving on a trip overseas this evening and won't be back 'till Tuesday, so unfortunately, no new chapters until then. **

* * *

"Erik, I have something to ask you." Myra had struggled over ways of bringing up her suspicions both casually and politely. She had thought of conversations she could start and then lead in the direction of the event. She had even gone so far as to imagine the exact words and tone of voice she would use when asking him. However, when the moment had come and the two were sitting, facing each other on the small wall in front of school, Myra had forgotten everything and thrown caution to the winds.

"What is it?" Erik enquired. His nature had become much more up front during the past week. She noticed the difference between their first meeting and now. Then, he had stared fixedly at the ground, barely speaking. Now, he faced her, very openly, and spoke at his leisure.

"You remember when you rescued me from those bullies today?"

"How could I forget."

"Well, I think they were running from something, or _someone_." she said, trying to force a confession out of Erik. He didn't reply, so she continued. "I think they were running from _you_, Erik, or something you did." Still, he didn't say a thing. Impatiently, Myra asked, "Am I right?"

Exhaling heavily, he answered, "Yes, you're correct." Though, he did not continue any narration of what had actually transpired. Again, Myra had to dig for the answers.

"Would you mind terribly telling me what happened?" she said, pointedly. Then, she added hastily, "I won't tell anyone, you know. Just between you and me." Seeming unsure, he glanced from side to side. Making up his mind, he took a breath and told her.

"I wanted to get them off my back for good, so I decided to play a little trick on them."

"A little trick?" she interrupted, skeptically. "They looked scared half to death!"

"Yes, well, that was just to make sure they would take me seriously." Erik answered. "So I led them on a while, until they were in the right place to spring my trap I set up before. Now here," he paused, explaining, "I could tell you only what happened to them, or I could explain how I did it too."

"Just tell me what happened." Myra replied, tiredly.

"Okay. Walls made of mirrors came up from the floor, trapping then in a little room, and a noose caught one of them around the neck. Then, using my ventriloquism skills to be heard in the room, I threatened them a little and then let them go." To her ears, it sounded both extremely complicated and too innocent.

"When you say, 'threatened them a little,' exactly what did you say?" she asked. Erik shifted his position nervously.

"I, you see, I, um," he stuttered, still unsure. "I talked about myself in third person, just so they would think it wasn't _me_ who was after them, but someone else. I, I told them that if anything happened to me, it would happen to them ten times worse." Myra wasn't overly shocked by this information. She had known Erik to be rather smart and cunning, but this. . . this was both genius and a little malicious.

"I think we can assume they took that threat to heart." she said. Pausing for thought, she made up her mind to tell Erik about her situation with her mother.

"Um, listen, I hope it's no offense to you, but my mom _really_ doesn't want me to see you, er, at all." she started, and saw his face fall sadly. "But I don't care," she said hurriedly, "about that, I mean. I'm just saying that, um, unless I can convince her that it's okay for us to be friends, I'll have to lie to her about us getting together on Friday. So, if we go out to eat, or something, and you happen to see her, I might have to hide for a little while so we don't get caught."

"Oh." he answered, a little awkwardly. "I understand, it's just, I wouldn't want you getting in trouble on my account."

"Don't worry about it, I can handle my mother. Well, mostly. Until I can convince her otherwise, we'll just have to keep all this a secret from my mom." Myra explained. "I didn't want to keep that a secret from you, seeing as we're friends and all."

"Yeah." he nodded. Pausing hesitantly, he began, "One thing about my mom is that . . ."

"Oh, there's my mom's car." she interrupted suddenly. "Sorry, I gotta go. Um, you can say whatever it was tomorrow, alright?" Myra hurried off to another part of the schoolyard to wait for her mom. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod his approval at continuing the conversation the next day.

Now came the difficult part: trying to convince her mother to let her see Erik. She hadn't thought much about her argument during the day. However, today she inevitably had to ask her mother if she could go over a friend's house on Friday. And the friend was either going to be Erik or a made-up girl. Myra decided on negotiating a sort of truce between them, some compromise that would both allow her to see him and keep her mother in peace of mind. As the car pulled up, she took pointed strides toward it, her argument fully formed in her mind. She had barely sat down and closed the door when she spoke.

"Mom, why do you _really_ want me to stay away from Erik?" she asked. "Is it that you think he'll have a bad influence on me?" At the mention of Erik's name, Meliora had immediately glared at the car in front of her.

"Yes," she spat back, "that's why. I think he's a deceitful ne'er-do-well that shouldn't be let within ten feet of my daughter." Myra opened her mouth to argue, but her mother sped right on. "And if he's not deceitful, then why does he wear a mask? Only a person who doesn't want you to see his true face would wear a mask."

"I haven't asked him about the mask because I don't think it would be polite. You're the one always telling me to 'be polite' and 'have good manners'." Myra argued, as they sped down the road. Meliora was driving very fast, sped on by anger. She tried to interrupt, but her daughter continued regardless. "And he's very smart. From what I see," she said, assuming for the moment, "he hardly has to work at his homework and has no trouble studying for tests. Which means he could help me out in school, too, and . . ."

"You seem to have a lot of interest in Erik." her mother interrupted, sounding a little suspicious. "What about him is so special that makes you go to all this trouble?" Myra was silent. Patiently, her mother waited for a reply. When she didn't get one after some time, she egged her daughter on a little more. "What do you like about him? Is it his eyes, his hair, the way he moves?"

"No." she answered, defiantly. "It's, well, um," she faltered, trying to decide. "I think it's just his personality is so reserved, I'd really like to get to know him better. So maybe then I'll know why he is the way he is."

"Well, I can't say I've raised you to be any different." Meliora said, sighing a little. Myra cheered up hopefully. "But I still can't approve of the two of you spending time together. I know you're just being inquisitive, but I think you're getting into more than you can handle." Myra looked at the floor, crestfallen. "I just don't want my baby hurt." she said, warmly patting her daughter on the shoulder.

"Oh. I see." she answered. "On another note," she prepared to make up a name, "I was wondering if I could go over June's house on Friday. She's a girl I met in math class." Uneasily, Myra looked hopefully up at her mother.

"Alright, I don't see why not." her mother answered. "It's good to hear you're making other friends. Where does she live?"

"Um, I don't know, but her mom would be taking me to her house after school and driving me back sometime in the evening, so you don't have to worry about transportation." Myra replied, hoping that she was lying convincingly.

"That's very nice of her family. What time would you be getting home?"

"That hasn't been decided either. I just wanted to ask you if it was okay to go over her house." she explained.

"Well it's fine. How about you call me when you're on your way home, alright?" Meliora agreed, as she pulled into the driveway.

"Sure." Myra answered, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. She ambled up the walkway and into the house, now thinking about the night's homework and determined not to get as distracted as the past nights.

She set her backpack on the floor next to her chair, put a few miscellaneous papers in a pile near the edge of the desk, and started working. Occasionally, her guilty conscience would make her insides writhe, but she was always able to keep working. At this steady pace she was able to finish by 6:00. Perhaps the work wasn't as time-consuming as it had seemed.

"Mom, what's for dinner?" she called, her stomach complaining.

"I was going to order Chinese food, what would you like?" her mother asked.

"Oh, I'd like some Veggie Lo Mein." Myra answered.

The food arrived in short order, and the two ate their fill in silence. Meliora looked as though she was about to start up a conversation, but her daughter interrupted.

"I'm done." she said, putting her dish in the sink and leaving.

She headed in the direction of one of the house's living rooms. This one contained a shiny black grand piano, overly stuffed couches, and an old-fashioned fireplace. The couches were covered in a light floral patterned fabric and the pillows were covered in Chinese silk. On the ancient fireplace's mantelpiece rested the pictures of Myra's family. However, no matter how much parents like to embarrass their children, none of her first baby pictures were displayed. The only pictures of her started when she was around two.

Myra sat at the piano and began to play. The wonderful melodies floated leisurely around the house. Her skill at the piano was never to be doubted, she was able to play it as well at 15 as many concert pianists around 50. Her extraordinary talent was often attributed by her family members as the 'work of angels'.

After practicing for some time, she got up from the bench and went up to her room. She checked the clock beside her bed, it read 8:00. Looking around her room for something to do, she surveyed the scenery.

The walls of her room were pained a light periwinkle with some hand-pained interlocking vines weaving around the room. On the vines bloomed a few delicate blue flowers. On the ceiling a few pink clouds drifted in a light blue sky. A small walk-in closet held a few ancient board games in the uppermost shelves and was otherwise covered in miscellaneous articles of clothing. A queen-size bed was covered in a soft violet comforter and several fluffy pillows. A small bookcase filled with boring 'classics' rested beside a vanity containing a minimal amount of makeup and hair products.

"Nothing to do!" she thought, throwing herself down on her bed. Turning over on her back, she began daydreaming about nothing in particular.

She started thinking about the events of the week, about how much had already happened. It was surprising, but only three days had past. Those days had seemed rather long, but that was mostly due to how many events had taken place in such a short amount of time. Also, she was going over Erik's house on Friday. What would happen then? Still wondering, Myra got up and started getting ready for bed.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, she wondered what the next day might have in store for her. Many more surprises were in store.


	14. Chapter 14

**Review Replies: (Yay! Two chapters in a row I don't feel I'm breaking the rules of grammar to put that in the plural!)**

**whispering-voices: Thank you, I hope to continue writing for a long time to come.**

**PhantomGirl1490: I had fun on my trip, thank you, and I will update as often as I can. My goal is to get to at least ch. 16 by Sunday, but I'll see if I can get that done sooner. Have fun in Hawaii!**

**PhantomsxAngelxofxMusic: I understand travel, I've done my fair share this summer. And I know you're not abandoning me, just R&R when you get back.** **And no, I won't tell you Myra's relationship to Christine yet. Unfortunately, that information won't be for a long while.**

**P.S. I'm going to a sleep-over camp for a week, starting Sunday. Too much traveling!**

* * *

Erik had barely sat down on the little wall with Myra when, after a slight moment's pause, she blurted out, rather bluntly. 

"Erik, I have something to ask you." She looked at him rather determinedly. "Oh no," he thought, "I knew my appearance earlier was a lot too soon. She probably suspects . . ."

"What is it?" he asked.

"You remember when you rescued me from those bullies today?" Myra said. "I knew it." he thought dejectedly.

"How could I forget." he answered.

"Well, I think they were running from something, or _someone_." she said, obviously trying to force him to confess. Erik wouldn't do so eagerly, so he remained silent. "I think they were running from you, Erik, or something you did." He didn't reply, but mentally fought with the possibility of lying to her. Sounding rather impatient, she asked, "Am I right?"

Here, the debate in his head came to a peak. "Just lie!" said one voice. "You're very good at it, why not use the skill?"

'But what kind of a friendship would this be if he lied?' the second voice argued. 'Relationships are built on trust. Even he knows that! You need to be honest with her from the start. Otherwise, it'll just escalate into a friendship built on lies. That's an avalanche waiting to happen!'

Exhaling heavily with the weight of the arguing voices, he answered, "Yes, you're correct." However, Erik didn't continue to tell Myra anything about what happened. Again, she had to prod him on.

"Would you mind terribly telling me what happened?" she asked. Erik was still unsure, he had never trusted anyone before, even his mother. No, especially not his mother.

"Yes, I do mind, now will you please get off my back!" he thought, as though trying to tell her telepathically.

"I won't tell anyone, you know." she said, hastily trying to reassure him. "Just between you and me." Glancing from side to side uncertainly, he decided to tell her everything. Inhaling deeply, he began his explanation.

"I wanted to get them off my back for good, so I decided to play a little trick on them."

"A little trick?" Myra interrupted, doubtingly. "They looked scared half to death!"

"Yes, well, that was just to make sure they would take me seriously." Erik replied, truthfully. "So I led them on a while, until they were in the right place to spring my trap I set up before. Now here," he stopped explaining, "I could tell you only what happened to them, or I could explain how I did it too."

"I'm actually interested in how you did it, whatever 'it' is." Myra answered, resting her chin on her hand.

"Alright." he said, a little surprised. "I use a memory metal backing for some mirrored walls. Memory metal is, in case you didn't know, a metal that 'remembers' its original form and goes back to it when under enough heat. I folded the walls into blocks and set them in a stand that would release on command. The floor tiles above the walls were hooked to a mechanism that would slide them underneath the tiles behind them, getting them out of the way. That whole chain was triggered when I removed the ceiling tile." Erik paused, "Sorry, am I boring you?"

Myra shook her head, thoroughly intrigued. (A/N: Sorry if this is boring you.)

"Okay, good. I tied that thin cord you saw at lunch to the tile, and to a noose. I removed the ceiling by simply pulling hard enough on the rope. At the same time, the noose fell down from the ceiling, catching one of the bullies around the neck. I simply kept pulling to tighten the noose. The movement of the ceiling triggered the mechanism in the floor, bringing up the mirror walls, so they were trapped in a small room of mirrors. Then I threatened them a little and let them go."

Myra's head seemed to be spinning. Admittedly, it was a lot to take in. Seeming to come to her senses, she posed an interesting question.

"When you say 'threatened them a little,' what exactly did you say?"

"This is exactly what I hoped _wouldn't _happen." Erik thought, shifting his position nervously.

"I, you see, I, um," he stammered, still unsure about the whole 'trust' thing. "I talked about myself in third person, just so they would think it wasn't _me_ who was after them, but someone else. I, I told them that if anything happened to me, it would happen to them ten times worse." He looked downward, feeling a little ashamed, a totally alien feeling. Before, Erik never felt he owed the human race anything, they had never done anything but make his life miserable. Now . . . it was different.

"I think we can assume they took that to heart." Myra said, a little gravely. She paused for a moment before saying, rather heavily, "Um, listen, I hope it's no offense to you, but my mom _really_ doesn't want me to see you, er, at all." Erik felt his entire world come crashing down.

"Oh no." he thought, burdened with sadness. "I've only known her for three days and now . . . I hoped . . ."

"But I don't care," she said hastily, noticing his change in mood, "about that, I mean. I'm just saying that, um, unless I can convince her that it's okay for us to be friends, I'll have to lie to her about us getting together on Friday. So, if we go out to eat, or something, and you happen to see her, I might have to hide for a little while so we don't get caught."

At this, he felt both relieved and worried, if that's at all possible. Then he did something he had never done before: put another person's interests before his own. (A/N: I know this makes Erik sound very selfish, but if he didn't look out for himself in his earlier years, no one would!)

"Oh," Erik answered. "I understand, it's just, I don't want you getting in trouble on my account."

"Don't worry about it. I can handle my mother." she paused, correcting herself. "Well, mostly. Until I can convince her otherwise, we'll just have to keep all this a secret from my mom. I didn't want to keep that a secret from you, seeing as we're friends and all."

"Yeah." he nodded, understanding the mutual honesty. In that light, he felt like he should confess a little about his own mother. She . . . wasn't your typical maternal woman. He began, "One thing about my mom is . . ."

"Oh, there's my mom's car." Myra interrupted, indicating a dark green minivan. "Sorry, I gotta go. Um, you can say whatever it was tomorrow, all right?"She hurried off to another part of the campus, supposedly to wait for her mom. Erik nodded slightly, doubting he would be able to talk about his mom again. It wasn't one of his favorite subjects. It held a lot of pain.

It was a little while before his mother came, so he had time to think about the past three days. It was amazing that only three days had passed, wasn't it? So much had happened, Erik felt like things would never be the same. Even if Myra really had left him, he still wouldn't have been the same. He didn't know if he would have been able to make other friends, but he would never forget her. Myra was his first friend, the first person he could trust, the first person he ever really cared about. When Erik thought about it that way, it made him feel extraordinarily selfish.

Just then, he saw his mother's old battered car drive through. Picking up his bag, he walked after her. Closing the door behind him, he waited a little while before explaining what would happen on Friday.

"Uh, mom?" She didn't answer, but he assumed she was listening. "You're gonna be picking up both my friend and I Friday after school, and taking her home sometime in the evening. Is that okay?"

Clementina nodded curtly. "What's her name?"

"Myra." he answered.

"It's not a bad name."

"Mom, do you think you could, you know, try to act _normally_?" Erik asked, hesitantly.

"I wasn't going to act any differently for your little friend." she replied.

"No," he shook his head, "you don't understand."

"What," she said darkly, turning to glare ominously at Erik, "do I not understand?" His mouth hung open for a moment, as though he were about to say something, but he closed it.

"Nothing." His mother turned her eyes back to the road as the car pulled into the driveway.

Erik grabbed his bag and went up to his room to work on homework. The workload was rather light today, he was able to finish in only two hours. Later in the school day, he had gone to all the teachers of the classes he missed and got the homework from them, and more than one lecture about skipping class. All the same, he was finished by five o'clock.

Erik wasn't particularly hungry, but he decided to make one of the few dishes he knew how to cook. Leaving his homework in a pile on the desk, he went down to the kitchen and checked it's supplies.

"Just enough." he said, getting out five potatoes, three eggs, and some oil.

Taking a frying pan out of one of the cabinets along with a large glass bowl and a peeler. He began peeling the potatoes, putting the peels in the garbage. Pouring some oil in the frying pan, he put it on the stove and turned up the heat. Erik cut the potatoes into flat slices, putting them in the boiling oil in the pan. Cracking the eggs in the bowl, he whipped them into a uniform pale yellow. Then, getting a spatula out, he cooked all the potatoes until they were a nice golden brown. Next, he poured the eggs in with the potatoes and let them cook, moving them around a little. Finally, he used the spatula to serve himself. It wasn't an extravagant dinner, but it was filling.

His mother came into the kitchen just as he was sitting down at the table. The chairs were old, a little wobbly, but still seemed homey. The wooden table was long overdue for a new coat of paint, the wood was so dry it would immediately go up in flames, yet the old wood seemed to tell a story. That of ancient families long dead who used to sit at the same table and discuss the futures of their grandchildren. However, these normal, happy families were gone, and only two people were destined to sit at this table.

"You made dinner." Erik's mother said, coldly. "Nothing for me?" Sitting down beside him, she looked darkly at his full plate.

"You never seemed to like my cooking." he answered, just as coldly, eyes focused on his food. "I assumed you didn't want any."

"Well then you were wrong _again_, weren't you." she spat, trudging into the kitchen to look for something she could make for her own supper. Irritated and fed up, he yelled in her direction.

"I can't do anything right, can I?"

"No," she said, gravely, "you can't."

Erik looked down at his food, but found he had lost his apatite. Pushing the plate away a little harder than he had to, he shouted, "You want this? You can have it."

Throwing rather than pushing his chair in, he stormed up to his room. "Why?" he thought, furiously. "Why is she always like this!" Kicking the foot of his bed in anger, he stubbed his toe. Yelling in pain and frustration, he fell back on his bed, still thinking, "Why? _Why?_"

"No," he thought bitterly, "I know why." Erik felt the mask on the right side of his face.

Exhaling heavily, he calmed himself. He had so much practice with this, he was surprised how livid he had been. Heaving himself up, he put on his pajamas and started getting ready for sleep.

Pulling up the blanket so it covered his shoulders, Erik hoped that things would go better with his mother when Myra was there. Still, that was yet to be seen.


	15. Chapter 15

**Review Replies:**

**Brianna: Yikes, that's a long plane ride. The longest I've been on was 7 hrs, and that was brutal enough! My suggestion is to bring a very long book that you can be interested in for at least six hours and sleep the other six. And pray they have a good in-flight movie.**

**PhantomsxAngelxofxMusic: Yup! I hope there'll be two chapters for you to read. But I have to write them first, don't I.**

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Thursday passed anxiously for more than one person. Myra was still unable to convince her mother that Erik was an acceptable companion, Erik appeared anxious trying to ready his house for his guest, and the two bullies tried to get through school without being injured.

Finally, Friday came. Myra got up earlier than ususal in time to take a shower and dry her hair. Using some hair spray to keep her curls out of her face, she put on a flattering pair of jeans and a pale green top.

"Remember," she reminded her mother, while they were driving to school, "I'm going over, June's house today so don't pick me up from school."

"I won't forget." Meliora answered, pulling up to school.

Waving goodbye, Myra hurried into school. She sat tapping her pencil impatiently throughout all her morning classes. Collecting her books hastily, she hurried to lunch.

"So, how are you?" she asked Erik, as soon as they had both sat down with their lunches. They had both gotten the Friday Special, pizza.

"Fine. You look rather nice." he remarked, looking her up and down. Myra felt a small tint of pink on her cheeks. "Did you bring anything to do for when you come over?" He had repeatedly asked her if she was planning to bring anything all yesterday.

"Oh, no. I had planned on bringing Trivial Pursuit or something, but this morning I completely forgot."

"That's okay." he answered. "There's just not much to do at my house."

"Right. Hey, I remember on Wednesday you were starting to say something about your mom." Myra said, taking a small nibble on her pizza. "What was it?"

"It was nothing." Erik replied, taking a bite of his lunch.

"I'm sure you said something, or started to." she responded, taking another nibble. He swallowed his food before speaking again.

"It was just your imagination, I never said anything of the sort."

"Oh, alright." she answered, a little confused. "I was sure you said something, though." They only ate for the rest of lunch. When the bell rang, Myra called after her friend, "See you after school, okay?"

"See 'ya then!" he yelled after her, as they parted ways.

Her afternoon classes passed just the same as the morning ones: Myra learned as much as she could, and was impatient the rest of the time. She hurried to and fro through the hallways, as though by walking quickly she could make the day pass more quickly. Finally, after watching the clock for the past three minutes, the last bell rang. This time, Myra even beat Erik out of the building.

Sitting on the little spot on the wall outside school, she waited for Erik, lazily scanning the cars in front.

To both her surprise and horror, she saw her mother's distinctive green minivan outside waiting for her. She jogged up to it, practically yelling through the rolled-down window.

"I told you not to come this morning! God, is your memory that bad? I'm going over June's house today!" Meliora looked rather taken aback by her daughter's harsh tone.

"Alright, I'm leaving!" she shouted back, angrily.

Looking behind her, Myra saw Erik subtly nod his head toward a small car that had just driven right past the school. Confused, she followed him, staying a little behind so her mother wouldn't notice.

As soon as she saw her mother drive out of the school parking lot, she hurried up to Erik's side.

"Um, why does she . ." she started to ask, but he interrupted her.

"Don't ask. Hopefully you won't find out." Myra stood blinking repeatedly, more confused than ever. After a moment, she jogged back to her place next to Erik.

"Okay, I won't ask." she said, studying his face for a moment. A small flash of worry crossed it, but it was gone as suddenly as it had come.

The two got in the back of the car and Erik's mother began to drive off. Her first impression of his mother was that of a tired, careworn woman in an exorcize outfit. However, she looked as though she hadn't exorcized for a while. She didn't speak at all during the ride, merely stared stonily forwards.

"My house isn't anything great or fancy," Erik explained after they had been sitting in the car for a while, "but we make do. Sorry if it's not, I don't know."

"Oh, don't worry." she answered, reassuringly. "I'm sure it's fine." He merely nodded unsurely.

It wasn't long until they pulled into the driveway of the house. Getting out of the car, Myra noticed the lawn was a little overgrown. Looking up at the house itself, she understood what Erik had meant. Some of the sides were overgrown with ivy and a couple windows had wood instead of glass. The structure was rather large, but it looked as though only part of its great expanse was used. She couldn't see around to the back, but she had a feeling it was even more overgrown than the front. She could also tell that it held some inner memory of its golden days, but they had long since faded.

"Er," he started, sounding a little embarrassed, "come on in." He gestured for her to follow as he walked up to the house, and she did accordingly. They left his mother behind. Erik led her through the front doors, which creaked on ancient hinges, and up a rickety staircase. After passing a few doors on the second level, he opened one that seemed completely empty, except for a small hatch in the ceiling.

"Um, where's . . ." Myra began, but Erik had already pulled down a ladder from the hatch and was starting to extend it to the floor. It cam down at an angle, so it was not unlike a rather steep set of stairs.

"Up there." he answered, pointing up the hatch. She looked up at the black hole cautiously. He chuckled a little. Offering his hand, he said, "Don't worry, it's clean."

She took it, gratefully. Hand in hand, he led her up the ladder. At the top, it was still very dark. He hurried to pull a cord hanging from a single lightbulb, casting dim light on his room.

Myra looked around, trying not to look as surprised as she felt. It was furnished with nothing other than a desk, rickety chair, and a small bedframe with nothing but an old spring mattress and blanket on top. An old computer sat on the desk.

"You live in an . . ." she stammered speechlessly, but was unable to finish.

"Attic?" he finished for her. She nodded mutely, trying to keep her mouth from gaping. "Yeah, it's always been like this."

"But, why? I mean, this place has a ton of rooms, why did you get this one?" Myra asked, still stunned.

"I, I'd rather not talk about it." he answered, looking away. Taking his backpack off, he unzipped it and took out a few binders and books. "To make your mom happy, we'd better get some homework out of the way first." He closed the hatch, bringing up the ladder.

Agreeing, she reached to take out her own books and binders for the same subjects Erik had taken out. He was evidently in as many AP classes as there were at school. They sat next to each other on the floor, spreading out all their work. If Myra ever was having a little trouble with a particular part of, say, Math, he was always able to give a simple, comprehensive explanation that Myra always understood. She wished they had worked together earlier, the work went ten times as fast when they were helping each other. They were both finished with all their subjects by 5:00.

"That was really easy!" Myra remarked, dotting her last "i" in English. "Thanks a lot for all your help, Erik."

"Don't mention it." he answered, politely, piling his work together near his backpack. "Um, what would you like for dinner?"

"Oh, anything's fine." she replied, putting her books back in her bag.

"We could order pizza, eat out, whatever you want."

"Is pizza okay?"

"Fine." Erik answered. "We'll have to go downstairs to order, what kind would you like?" He reopened the trapdoor, letting down the ladder.

"I'm okay with anything you want. As long as it's not pineapple."

"Don't worry, no one likes pineapple." he replied, starting to go down the ladder. Myra followed him.

Near the bottom, she tripped downwards. Erik caught her, saying "Careful!"

"Sorry," she said, pushing a stray curl behind her ear, "I can be a little clumsy."

"I can tell." he answered, pushing her up on her feet.

"Thanks." she replied, courteously.

"No problem." They continued on their way down the stairs and into an old kitchen with a small corded phone.

Erik ordered a medium cheese pizza, which came shortly. He paid for it with a little cash he took out of an old-fashioned cookie jar. He grabbed two cans of soda out of the refrigerator and, giving one to Myra and grabbing the pizza, started walking up the stairs. Once at the top the started to go down the hall to the room with the ladder that led to Erik's attic, but a stern voice made them stop.

"You." Wincing slightly, Erik turned to face his mother. Myra looked behind her shoulder and turned too.

"What are _you_ doing?" Clementina asked, quizzically. She seemed to be referring to Erik.

"Just going up to my room." he answered, calmly.

"I see you bought a pizza." she said, glaring.

"Yes, one for my friend and I. Why do you suddenly care what I do?" he said in a somewhat strained calm. "You never cared before." Turning to Myra he commanded rather than said, "You go on ahead."

Shaking her head sternly, she planted her feet in the old wooden flooring. Now his expression changed, pleading to her, "Please, just go." Again she shook her head. He was forced to turn his attention back to his mother as she spoke.

"You're right." she said, rather musingly. "Why should I care about you? After all," her tone turned suddenly cold as ice, accusing Erik with each new phrase, "it's because of you your father left. And it's your fault none of my friends speak to me anymore. It's because of you," she continued, her volume growing with every rant, "that we barely have enough money to keep this house. It's because of you that the only money we'll ever have is the dwindling inheritance! It's because of you I can't get a job! I'm barely able to go out of the house because of my _shame_ of you, _monster!_" Her voice had climaxed in her rage, but now she stumbled back ward, as though tired by the energy it had taken.

Throughout all this, Erik had simply stared darkly at the pizza box that blocked his view of the floor. He hadn't made any other sign of emotion, just stood there, as motionless as a statue. Even now, as he walked stiffly toward Myra, he didn't look up.

Myra, however, had a very different reaction. Her hands were trembling and her eyes were open wide, red, and begging to cry. "Oh God." she thought, hardly breathing. "If I had only known . . . But this explains everything. His room, this house, his attitude, everything."

"Let's go." Erik said blankly, moving past her and toward the room. Closing her eyes and turning, she let a single tear run down her ivory cheek.

He led her again to the room with the hatch in the ceiling. Putting the pizza box down for a moment, he put the ladder down. Picking it back up, he led the way up. Myra obediently followed, feeling drained.

As soon as they were up in Erik's room, she dropped her can of soda, sat on the mattress, and completely broke down. She was sobbing into her hands when she felt a warm arm around her shoulders. Looking up, she saw Erik looking down at her, seeming very concerned.

"I, I'm sorry you had to find out." he said, comfortingly. "Especially like this."

"But, you don't believe any of those awful things she just said, do you? You can't." she answered, tearfully. Erik sighed and looked away before replying.

"Well, when you've been told things like that since the cradle, it's hard not to." This only made Myra double up in sobs once more. He pulled her closer to him, putting his other arm around her in a comforting embrace. "Hey, if you're worried about me, I'm fine." In response, she buried her head in his chest.

Sighing, he pulled her even closer, and started rocking back and forth. All the while, he kept repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Myra looked up at him, saying, "You're sorry? I'm sorry! Sorry you have to go through this, sorry you have such a terrible woman for a mother! How could she dare blame you for all that?"

"It's really okay." he answered. "She just feels like reminding me sometimes. I'm just sorry you had to be here when she did." Erik looked down at her again. "Please, stop crying. It hurts me when you cry."

She only leaned her back against his chest, closing her eyes and letting a few more tears fall. Wiping them away with her hand, she let her head drop backwards onto his chest. Very softly, Erik began to sing:

_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

He paused for a moment, and Myra could hear his quiet breathing. His voice was like that of an angel, so beautiful with such melodies! Why had he never sung for her before?

"Go on." she said, softly. Obeying, he continued his song.

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor_

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender_

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling night_

_and listen to the Music of the Night_

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams_

_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before_

_Close you eyes let your spirit start to soar_

_And you'll live as you've never lived before_.

Now, Myra listened contentedly to his soft, pulsing heartbeat. Her tears had long since stopped flowing, yet she kept her eyes closed, entranced by the beautiful music.

_Softly, deftly, music shall surround you_

_Hear it, feel it, closing in around you_

_Open up your mind let your fantasies unwind_

_In this darkness which you know you can not fight,_

_The darkness of the Music of the Night._

_Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world_

_Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before_

_Let you soul take you where you long to be_

Pausing, he hummed the next line, before continuing the song.

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication_

_touch me, trust me, savor each sensation_

_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in_

_To the power of the music that I write _("He wrote this?" Myra thought, in awe.)

_The power of the Music of the Night_. (A/N: I know the song goes on, but does that really fit here?)

The two sat there together for a moment longer, listening simply to each other's breathing. Myra broke the mood slightly by whispering, "That was amazing."

"Thank you." Erik answered softly in her ear.

He removed himself from her and sat on the floor. Opening her eyes, she sat next to him. "We probably should eat." he said, opening the pizza box.

"Oh, yeah, but, if your mom really wanted it, then we should . . ." she answered, unsurely.

"Don't worry about that." Erik replied, taking out a slice. "She was just saying that to get on my nerves."

"Okay." Myra took out a slice for herself and took a bite. A little awkwardly she said, "Um, yeah, sorry about breaking down like that, I just . . ."

"It's fine." he answered, warmly. "You're just not used to things like that."

"Thanks though, for, um, comforting me. Your song really was beautiful, you have an amazing voice."

"You're welcome, and thank you. After we finish up with the pizza, my mom can take you home, alright? Where do you live?"

Myra told him, and they talked pleasantly for the rest of their time together. The drama of the evening seemed to be already forgotten. It was already 8:00 when she called her mom to tell her she was on her way home.

"How was it?" Meliora greeted her daughter cheerfully as soon as she entered the doors.

"Fine. I got all my homework done." she answered.

"Good. Was June's family nice enough?" she asked.

"Er," Myra lied, "great. Just great. I'm going to bed."

"Dear, it's only 8:45!" she called up the stairs.

"I'm just tired, alright mom!" she yelled from the door to her room. Myra was about to close it, when she called down, "I love you!"

Smiling warmly, her mother answered, "I love you too. Goodnight."

Closing the door to her room, she looked around at all the simple luxuries she had taken for granted. She had only just remembered her good fortune at having a mother who loved her. Flopping down on her soft bed, she squeezed a pillow close to her. Grabbing her comforter and pulling it up to her chin, she thought, "I'm so lucky, and I never even knew it."

With that in mind, she drifted off into sleep, still having the words of "Music of the Night", as she called the song, ringing softly in her head.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I hope all you reviewers don't get mad at me, we're not allowed to respond to reviews anymore. Which sucks. But we shall deal. Sorry, me random. Here's the chapter, even though it's about a week later than I hoped to have it done.**

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Thursday passed very anxiously for more than one person. Myra continued to argue with her mother about Erik, to no avail, Erik constantly worried about what would happen when she came over, and the two bullies were treating Erik as though he were diseased, running away when ever they saw him coming. He couldn't help but smile when they turned a corner, noticed him, and fled.

Finally, Friday had arrived. Erik got up, putting on his usual color: black. Hurrying downstairs, he made one final attempt to make his mother a little better behaved.

"Mom, do you think you could, um, act a little more, er," he paused, unsure of what to say. His mother was blinking at him blankly, with nothing but her usual contempt in her eyes. "Could you try to act more, motherly?"

"No." she answered, flatly. Sighing, he thought, "At least I tried."

At school, he mostly stared up at the clock's hands, willing them to move faster. After what seemed like ages, the bell rang for lunch. He collected his books and hurried into line for food.

"So, how are you?" Myra asked, as soon as they had both sat down. They had identical lunches, pizza.

"Fine." he answered. Looking her up and down, he admired the tight jeans and flattering top. "You look rather nice." Erik remarked. He noticed a slight flush in her cheeks, which made him want to blush as well.

"Did you bring anything to do for when you come over?" he asked, hastily changing the subject. The idea of her bringing a board game of some sort over his house had often come up on Thursday.

"Oh, no."Myra said, slouching with regret. "I had planned on bringing Trivial Pursuit or something, but this morning I completely forgot."

"That's okay." he assured her. "There's just not much to do at my house."

"Right." she replied, taking a small nibble of her lunch. "Hey, on Wednesday I remember you started to say something about your mom. What was it?"

"Oh shoot," he thought, "I hoped she had forgotten about that. Now that it's not one of those 'honest moments' I really don't want to talk about her."

"It was nothing." Erik said, taking a bite of his pizza.

"I'm sure you said something, or started to." she persisted. He swallowed before answering.

"It was just your imagination. I never said anything of the sort."

"So much for honesty." said a small voice in the back of his head.

"Oh, alright. I was sure you said something, though." Myra answered, seeming a little confused. They didn't talk at all throughout the rest of lunch. When the bell rang, she called, "See you after school, okay?"

"See 'ya then!" he answered, as they went there separate ways. He didn't even wait for the hallways to clear before venturing forth. Some gossiping girls whispered at him from behind their hands, but it didn't matter to him because today Myra was going over his house.

After the final bell had rung, Erik went outside to see Myra yelling through the window of a car at her mother. He noticed his mother's car drive by, and, remembering what she had said about her mother's forbidding her to see him, made a subtle motion with his head toward it. She followed, running up to his side after her mother's green minivan had disappeared.

"Um, why does she . . ." Myra started to ask, confused at his mother's odd behavior, but Erik interrupted her.

"Don't ask." he said. "Hopefully you won't find out." he added, himself hoping that nothing would throw uncomfortable light on his relationship with his mother. Sadly, he was to be disappointed.

"Okay, I won't ask." she answered, still seeming confused.

The two got into the car and Erik's mother took off. After riding in silence for some time, Erik felt obliged to explain a little.

"My house isn't anything great or fancy, but we make do. Sorry if it isn't, I don't know." He had stopped himself before saying, 'what you're used to.' He felt it might have been insulting.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure it's fine." Myra answered, reassuringly. He nodded, still nervous. It wasn't very long until they pulled up to the house itself.

Getting out of the car, he felt his stomach sink with shame. The grass looked as though it hadn't been cut in months, (which it hadn't) and the house itself looked broken beyond belief.

"Er, come on in." he said, trying to sound like a host. Gesturing for her to follow, he led her up the stairs to the small room that held the single entrance to the attic. The room was empty except for the hatch in the ceiling.

"Um, where's . . ." Myra began asking, as Erik pulled down the ladder.

"Up there." he answered to her unfinished question, pointing up at the dark hole. She looked up at it timidly. Now that he thought about it, the entrance did look a little menacing. Chuckling softly, he offered his hand for comfort. "Don't worry, it's clean."

She took his hand in hers and allowed herself to be led up the ladder. The room was still dark when they reached the top, but he pulled the cord on the light, illuminating the room.

This was the moment he had been dreading, the inevitable one. His room was clean, remarkably so for a teenager, but the reason for that was there wasn't anything to make it messy. It was very poorly furnished, and it was an attic. Erik didn't know what other people his age had for rooms, but he knew they were not like his. Myra's reaction only confirmed this.

"You live in an . . ." she stammered, but seemed too stunned to finish.

"Attic?" he finished. She nodded, dumbly. "Yeah, it's always been like this." he explained.

"But, why?" Myra asked. "I mean, this place has a ton of rooms, why did you get this one?"

"She just had to ask, didn't she." he thought, dejectedly. "What do I say now?"

"I, I'd rather not talk about it." Erik answered, turning away. He thought, despirately, "I really hope she doesn't find out, at least not this soon. I haven't even known her for a week, it would be terrible."

After taking out some books and binders out of his backpack, he turned back to Myra and said, "To make your mom happy, we'd better get some homework out of the way first." Setting them down, he closed the hatch, bringing up the ladder.

Nodding in agreement, she took out some schoolwork of her own. They spread out their work side by side each other on the floor. Myra seemed to be intelligent, but where she did well, he excelled. If she ever had any questions, Erik could answer them. The time seemed to pass quickly, and they were done very soon. It was only 5:00 when they were both able to set down their pencils for the last time.

"That was really easy! Thanks a lot for all your help, Erik." she said, gratefully.

"Don't mention it." he answered, putting his work near his backpack. "Um, what would you like for dinner?"

"Oh, anything's fine." Myra said, putting her books in her bag.

"We could order pizza, eat out, whatever you want." he replied, listing a few possibilities.

"Is pizza okay?"

"Fine. We'll have to go downstairs to order, what kind would you like?" said Erik, reopening the trapdoor and reaching ladder down to the floor below.

"I'm okay with anything you want." She paused, rethinking her statement. "As long as it's not pineapple."

"Don't worry," he said, reassuringly, "no one likes pineapple."

They both went down the ladder, Erik leading the way. Myra fell off balance and fell down the last few steps. "Careful!" he said, catching her.

"Sorry," she apologized, "I can be a little clumsy."

"I can tell." he replied, pushing her back onto her own feet.

"Thanks." she said, politely.

"No problem." Erik answered, leading Myra downstairs into the kitchen.

Using the old phone that was in there, he ordered a medium cheese pizza, which came before long. He paid for it with a few bills he took out of a cookie jar. Taking to cans of soda out of the refrigerator, Erik grabbed the pizza and started leading the way back to his room. So far, the visit had gone smoothly, but that changed rather abruptly. At the top of the stairs, Clementina's stern voice brought the entire day crashing down.

"You." she said, referring to Erik. Wincing, he turned, calmly preparing himself for the tornado that was about to come. "What are _you_ doing."

"Just going up to my room." he answered, still vainly hoping to avoid the situation.

"I see you bought a pizza."

"Ug, again with the food!" he thought, angrily. "Why does it seem like she always bugs me about food lately!"

"Yes, one for my friend and I. Why do you suddenly care what I do?" he said in a somewhat strained calm. "You never cared before."

"Why are you picking a fight?" a little voice in his head scolded. "You're picking a fight! In front of her!"

Erik turned to Myra, saying, "You go on ahead." Yet, he hoped to get her out of the line of fire. It was hopeless. She shook her head defiantly and planted her feet firmly on the floorboards. "Please, just go," he pleaded wordlessly. Again, she shook her head 'no'. His focus was forced back to his mother as she began her rant.

"Why now?" he thought.

"You're right." Clementina began, rather absently. "Why should I care about you? After all," her voice turned suddenly frosty, accusing Erik with each new sentence, "it's because of you your father left. And it's your fault none of my friends speak to me anymore. It's because of you," she continued, her intensity growing with every rant, "that we barely have enough money to keep this house. It's because of you that the only money we'll ever have is the dwindling inheritance! It's because of you I can't get a job! I'm barely able to go out of the house because of my _shame_ of you, _monster!_" Her voice had climaxed in her fury, but now she stumbled back ward, as though she couldn't stand the sight of her own son.

Erik had simply stared darkly in the direction of the ground. This wasn't anything he wasn't used to, however it had been a while since she had last reminded him. But this time was different from all the rest, because now Myra knew. She knew everything. Well, almost everything. She still hadn't seen his true face, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as he could. His brain had barely registered what his mother had said, it was so repetitious. All he could think about was Myra, and what she'd think of him now.

His face was void of all emotion as he walked back toward her. He couldn't bear to look up as he said, "Let's go," leading the way back to his room. Erik didn't even check to see if his mother had left the doorway. Everything felt surreal, like it was all just a horrible dream. But as he watched Myra collapse sobbing on his bed, he broke from his trance. His friend needed him.

Sitting down beside her, he put his arm around her shoulders, comfortingly.

"I, I'm sorry you had to find out. Especially like this." She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen with tears.

"But, you don't believe any of those awful things she just said, do you? You can't." Myra seemed to plead earnestly for a lie that Erik couldn't give. He looked away from her before replying truthfully.

"Well, when you've been told things like that since the cradle, it's hard not to." In response to this painful truth, she sobbed into her hands once more. Using his other arm, Erik hugged her closer. "Hey, if you're worried about me, I'm fine." he said, comfortingly. He thought, "It's nothing new, believe me." Myra buried her head in his chest.

Sighing, unsure what to do, he began rocking her back and forth. He repeated out loud the phrases that were going through his head. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

She looked up at him, saying a little angrily, "You're sorry? I'm sorry! Sorry you have to go through this, sorry you have such a terrible woman for a mother! How could she dare blame _you_ for all that?"

"It's really okay." he answered, trying to make her understand. "She just feels like reminding me sometimes. I'm just sorry you had to be here when she did." Erik looked down at her again, seeing more tears. "Please, stop crying. It hurts me when you cry."

Leaning backwards against his chest, she closed her eyes letting a few more tears caress her ivory cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Looking down at her, Erik examined her milky soft skin and full scarlet lips. She truly was beautiful, why had it taken him so long to recognize it? Gently, thinking of nothing better to do, he began to sing one of the songs he had written.

_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

Erik paused, listening to Myra's quiet breathing. It was no longer laden with sobs. His singing seemed to have comforted her more than his words.

"Go on." she whispered. He couldn't refuse.

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor_

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender_

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling night_

_and listen to the Music of the Night_

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams_

_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before_

_Close you eyes let your spirit start to soar_

_And you'll live as you've never lived before_.

He could hear her heart beating rhythmically. She had stopped crying, yet he did not stop singing. Myra seemed bewitched by his strange sweet melody.

_Softly, deftly, music shall surround you_

_Hear it, feel it, closing in around you_

_Open up your mind let your fantasies unwind_

_In this darkness which you know you can not fight,_

_The darkness of the Music of the Night._

_Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world_

_Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before_

_Let you soul take you where you long to be_

Pausing, he hummed the next line, considering it inappropriate, before continuing the song.

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication_

_touch me, trust me, savor each sensation_

_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in_

_To the power of the music that I write_

_The power of the Music of the Night_.

They sat there together for a little while longer, willing the moment to last forever. For a moment, Erik was completely content simply listening to Myra breath. She whispered softly, "That was amazing."

"Thank you." he whispered in her ear.

Feeling the moment over, he removed his embrace and moved to sit on the floor. Opening her eyes, Myra joined him. "We probably should eat." he said, opening up the forgotten pizza box.

"Oh, yeah, but, if your mom really wanted it, then we should . . ." she said, unsurely.

"Don't worry about that." he answered, removing a slice. "She was just saying that to get on my nerves."

"Okay." Myra took a slice for herself and bit the end. Seeming a little embarrassed, she said "Um, yeah, sorry for breaking down like that, I just . . ."

"Don't worry about it." Erik said, warmly."You're just not used to things like that."

"Thanks though, for, um, comforting me. Your song really was beautiful, you have an amazing voice."

"You're welcome, and thank you." he answered, trying to be modest. "After we finish up with the pizza, my mom can take you home, alright? Where do you live?"

She told him, and they chatted pleasantly for the next two hours. The earlier drama seemed to be already forgotten. Myra called her mother around 8:00, once they were on their way to her house.

After dropping her off, Erik had to contain his fury at his mother. She had done so much damage, but not to him. She had made Myra cry, she had hurt her! How could she, how dare she! After only knowing her for less than a week, she had learned more about him than any other person alive ever had. And now, now what would happen? His first friend reduced to tears after only five days. What would his mother do next, rip off his mask in front of her! Inexplicable rage was coursing through Erik's body as he got out of the car.

"Why did you do that!" he shouted, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." his mother answered curtly, walking briskly toward the front door.

"Sure you don't." he said sarcastically, following her. "And your little rant before was nothing?"

"What are you going on about?" Clementina answered stonily.

"Your _friendly reminder_ just happened to reduce my friend into tears!" Erik yelled.

"Since when do you have any friends." she spat back, locking the front door behind them. "No one could ever stand to be near you."

"She can!" he shouted, pointing behind him as though Myra were there.

"Oh well then good for her." she hissed, stomping up the stairs toward her room. However, halfway up, she turned back to Erik with a malicious grin that boded trouble. "Wait, that girl, she hasn't seen you, has she."

He was silent, only confirming her suspicions. "That explains everything right there, now, doesn't it?" his mother continued. "She hasn't seen what you look like, so she doesn't know what kind of a _thing_ she's been hanging around all this time."

"I'm not a thing!" Erik shouted.

"Oh yes you are." she hissed back. "You're nothing but a loathsome gargoyle, a repulsive carcass, a _monster_. But she doesn't know what you are yet. Wait 'till she sees, then we'll find out for sure, won't we." Clementina cackled ominously. He couldn't help but call up at her as she turned away and continued up to her room.

"She wouldn't care! Even if she saw me, she wouldn't care what I look like."

All his mother did was chuckle wickedly and mutter, "we'll see, we'll see."

Erik stomped up to his room, feeling that the day couldn't possibly have gone any worse. Finally pulling the blanket up over his head, he thought darkly, "There's no going back now."


	17. Chapter 17

**I thank all my reviewers, it's your encouragement that keeps me going strong even on those late nights when I know I have to get up early the next morning. Happy reading!**

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On Monday, Myra woke with a heavy heart, laden with questions. How was she supposed to treat Erik now that she knew? How could she even look him in the face after what happened that night? And why had his mother called him a monster? If any of the two were to be called that, it would be her. But still, what _really_ was under that mask? Exhaling heavily, she got up and started dressing.

During the car ride to school, her mother started questioning her on the exact moment she didn't want to be reminded of.

"So, dear, why don't you tell me about what happened at June's house?"

"Oh, yeah. That." she grumbled. "We went up to her room and did some homework. Then we had pizza for dinner. That's pretty much it." she lied.

"You seemed a little distraught when you came home, are you _sure_ that's all that happened?" Meliora inquired.

"You know, Mom, I'm really sick of the 'twenty questions' you always ask. Why can't you just leave me alone!" Myra snapped, very irritable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it bothered you that much." she answered, as though trying to remain calm.

"Yeah, well, it does." she replied, haughtily. Getting out of the car and hurrying toward the large double doors of the school entrance, Myra vaguely heard her mother yell, "have fun at school!"

"Yeah right." she thought, skeptically. Proceeding to her morning classes, her mind continued to mill over the questions that had been posed in the morning. How should she act? Should she act differently? It would be hard not to. But should she mention what happened? Or wait for Erik to bring it up? No, chances were he'd never get to it. Still, even if she brought it up herself, what would she say? Just then, the bell rang for lunch. Collecting her things, she hurried off to the line.

Sitting down next to Erik, Myra started eating, not exactly sure what to say. After silence had ensued for some time, she asked, "How was the rest of your weekend?"

"Mostly uneventful." he answered. "Yours?"

"Same." Rather awkwardly, they both started eating agin. Finally, Erik spoke.

"About what happened on Friday, I don't want you to treat me any differently. I mean, I don't want you to stay friends with me just because you might pity me."

"Erik," she paused, formulating her honest answer, "I can't truthfully promise that something like that won't happen in the future, but for now, I like you for who you are."

"I suppose I'm a little surprised you can stand me." Erik said. Myra was rather shocked at this.

"Stand you? I like you! I'm not just sticking around you because you're bearable, but because I enjoy your company." The look upon his face as she said this was one she could never forget, although she didn't quite understand its expression at the time.

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." he said in a choked, almost teary voice.

"Actually, I think I do." she answered. Erik smiled sadly in reply.

They didn't talk much for a time, both thinking about what the other had said. Thoughts of that fateful night kept going through Myra's head. Remembering how he had held her sent shivers up and down her spine. How could this be happening? She had known him for only a week, exactly a week in fact. Yet, she knew she wanted to be there for him when no one else would. She wanted to show him that he wasn't alone. But, she couldn't be developing feelings for him, could she? No, it was impossible, unthinkable, inconceivable! However . . .

"So, how are you getting along with the teachers so far?" Erik said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh, not that badly." she answered. "I have Ms. Kent as my science teacher. Although Chemistry is really boring, she's really nice and easy-going. What about you?"

"I don't tend to socialize much." he said.

"I've noticed." Myra replied, a little sarcastically. "But you must have noticed which teachers are hard, which aren't, which ones have those weird habits that make you twitch."

"There are a couple things." he answered. "My history teacher, Mr. Lefévre, writes up notes before class, an outline of all the things he _might_ get to during the day's lecture. This way, you have to remember what he says about the things mentioned in the outline while copying the _entire_ thing down, just in case he runs out of time."

"Yikes, I'm glad I don't have Honors History." she said, shivering.

"It does require a certain amount of patience." said Erik. "May I ask you a question?"

"You just did, but you may ask another."

"What's your favorite flower?" Myra smiled, thinking.

"Well, I like white lilies, they always seem to remind me of springtime and happiness. What about you?" He thought for a moment before answering.

"I prefer roses, red ones."

"Why's that?" she asked, cocking her head curiously. She had to resist the urge to burst out, "That's so romantic!" like some silly schoolgirl.

"I, I don't know exactly." he answered. "They seem both solemn and beautiful."

"Yeah, they are. This is probably going to sound overly metaphoric, but people can be a lot like roses." Myra said, looking right at Erik. "Once you get past the thorns, they're really quite beautiful."

With the slightest tint of pink on his face, he replied, "Some people's thorns are so small, they're hardly noticeable."

Just then, the bell rang. Waving farewell to Erik, Myra hurried off to class. She was glad the bell had rung, she was able to hide her blush.

Tapping her eraser impatiently during class, her mind wandered once again to Friday night, as though her brain hadn't visited the evening enough during the weekend. "What a horrible woman Erik has for a mother!" Myra thought. "She doesn't even deserve to be called a mother after what she must have put him through. But, that night, she called him a monster. Why did she do that? Was it his personality that bothered her that much?" Myra remembered the 'little trick' Erik had played on the bullies, remembered his look of cruel satisfaction at their reactions."No, underneath that he is truly a good person, just misunderstood and not taught human feelings." she thought. "If anyone is to blame for how his personality has turned out, it's her." As far as Myra could see, he wasn't a monster at all. But, that was only as far as she could see.

The mask! It all came down to his mask. Why did he wear it? Was he using the physical burrier to hide his malicious personality? She had heard of people's outward personality being described as a mask, had he taken that literally? "On the other hand," she thought, "he could be deformed. If he is, what caused it? Did his mother hurt him so much that she had scarred his face? That's unlikely, considering how much she blames Erik." Myra continued her train of thought, almost overanalyzing. "Then, is the deformity from birth? Did his mother do something wrong during the pregnancy? Or maybe . . ."

The final bell rang, interrupting her thoughts.While putting some of her books in her locker, she concluded that she couldn't ask him about his mask. Not yet anyway. Slinging her bag over her back, Myra decided on bringing up the song he had sung to her.

"Hi." she said, sitting next to him on the spot on the wall they had made their own.

"Hello. Did anything major happen after lunch?" Erik asked.

"No, not really. Um, about that song you sung, it really was beautiful."

"Thank you, although I'm sure you're exaggerating." he answered, modestly.

"Not at all! Did you really write it, like the words say?"

Seeming slightly uncomfortable, he replied, "Yes, I did."

"Wow." said Myra, her eyes widening in awe. "I can't believe you wrote that! It was the most melodious thing I've ever heard. And no, that wasn't an exaggeration."

"Thank you again. I've never actually sung for anyone before, not as though I had anyone I could sing to."

"Then let me be the first to tell you that you have amazing musical genius and a melodious voice." she answered.

"Once again, I'm sure you're exaggerating. I can't be any good, I've never had any instruction." He continued to have a lowly idea of himself, not as though Myra could blame him.

"Erik, you're good. You have a natural talent in music. Have you written anything else?"

"I've started something, but it's far from completion." he answered.

"What is it?" Myra asked, curiously.

"It's, it's an opera." Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"An opera! That's the single hardest thing to compose! That settles it." Myra said, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Settles what?" he asked, confused at her reaction.

"You're a genius!" she replied. "And don't you try to deny it." she said, as his mouth opened to speak.

"I was just going to mention that your mother's coming." Erik said, looking over at the car parking nearby.

"Shoot." Myra said, grabbing her bag and running away from him. "What if she saw me!" she thought furiously. After stopping a ways away from Erik, she walked slowly toward the car, trying to catch her breath as she went.

"How was school?" Meliora asked curtly.

"Er, fine. Tons of homework tonight, though." Myra eyed her mother's face nervously. "Mom, did you see . . ."

"See what? Is there something you need to tell me?" She was speaking very stiffly, staring intently at the road in front of her. Myra was unsure why her mother was in this strange mood, until she remembered her words that morning.

"I'm sorry for what I said this morning. I was just irritable, that's all." she said, apologetically.

"And I'm sorry for always questioning you so much." her mother replied. They seemed to have met a median for the time being. Myra decided it would not be a good time to argue her case about Erik.

As she had said earlier, she had a lot of homework ahead of her. While still moving her tired pencil across the page at 9:30, she thought "This would go a lot faster if Erik were here." That thought sent Myra's mind wheeling into a thousand dreams and speculations about her masked friend. It wasn't until 9:45, when her mother called up to see how close she was to finished, that she remembered her work. Her pencil had fallen on the floor as she rested her head on her palm in thought. Jolting herself out of her trance, she worked vigorously for the rest of the night. However, at times, she caught herself humming the tune of "Music of the Night".

_Open up your mind let your fantasies unwind_

_In this darkness which you know you can not fight,_

_The darkness of the Music of the Night._

Those were the lines that kept going through her head, even as she lay in bed, willing her eyes to close in sleep. Out of nowhere, a tune popped into her head, and she had some words to go along with it.

_Angel of Music, guide and guardian,_

_Grant to me your glory._

Finally drifting into the violet clouds of blissful slumber, Myra vowed to someday continue the song, and find out more about the mysterious Angel of Music.


	18. Chapter 18

**I know I haven't updated in forever, and I'm sorry. > Theupdates will be rather sparatic now that school has started again, but I'll do my best. Please forgive me, blame the teachers with evil homework, not me! Thank you to all who reviewed, it means so much to me you have no idea!  
- Cadringiel**

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On Monday morning, Erik's listless arm peeked out of the covers to press the sleep button on his alarm clock. Sleep had been a thing of the past all that weekend. His mother had acted, well, like herself, constantly torturing him about his relationship with Myra. She had threatened to do the most terrible things. Even that very morning in the car, she didn't stop reminding him of the horrendous amount of power his mother had over him.

"Suppose I just tell her what you look like, hm?" she said, in a high-pitched light tone.

"You wouldn't do that." Erik retorted, but in his heart, he knew she would.

"Why have you been in such denial lately?" Clementina said in the same casual tone. "Is there a reason that you can't accept the fact that you're a monster?"

"I came to grips with that a long time ago." he answered darkly.

"Then don't you wonder what will happen when your lady friend realizes it?" she asked.

"Of course I wonder!" he shouted, then his voice became quiet. "I dread the day when she sees me for what I am. It would be overly optimistic to hope that day will never come, and I've never been known for optimism. But I can't help hoping that she, she won't run away in fear like everyone else."

"Any such hope would be in vain." his mother scoffed in reply. Just then, the car pulled up to the school, and Erik got out.

During his morning classes, his mind continued to ponder Myra, and how she would act now that she knew. "Will she avoid me?" he thought. "Will she hate me? Could she even pity me?" No, he didn't want her to pity him. It could lead to a false friendship, which is worse than not having one.

However, that statement assumed that their friendship wasn't already false. "What if she doesn't really like me, what if she already hates me but is too afraid to say anything! What if . . ." His thoughts were interrupted by the incessant ringing of the school bell. Shoving his books into his locker, Erik hurried off to the lunch line.

Once again, he was first to arrive at the table. He wasn't exactly sure what to do or say when Myra first sat down. He wanted to tell her everything that was on his mind, but was also extremely wary of her. He wasn't completely trusting of her. He never had trusted anyone before. After a very awkward silence, Myra asked, "How was the rest of your weekend?"

"Mostly uneventful." he lied, not caring to bring up his mother's constant nagging. "Yours?"

"Same." she answered. They both continued eating.

"Why not just say what you want to say?" the small voice of reason whispered in Erik's ear. "I'm afraid of how she'll react." he answered in his mind, eyes staring fixedly on his food. "But you'll never know the truth unless you say it." the voice argued. Inhaling deeply, Erik let it out.

"About what happened on Friday," he started, hesitantly, "I don't want you to treat me any differently. I mean, I don't want you to stay friends with me just because you might pity me."

"Erik," Myra paused, seemingly thinking about the statement, "I can't truthfully promise that something like that won't happen in the future, but for now, I like you for who you are."

"I suppose I'm a little surprised you can stand me." he said, continuing to be honest with her. Her reaction seemed to be one of shock.

"Stand you?" she blurted wildly. "I like you! I'm not just sticking around you because you're bearable, but because I enjoy your company."

Now it was his turn to be shocked. He stared at her for a moment, taking in the substance of what she had said. "She likes me." he thought, stunned. "She actually cares about me."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." Erik said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He was close to crying with happiness.

"Actually, I think I do." she answered, apparently remembering his mother's outburst. He smiled sadly in reply.

They didn't talk for a while, both seemingly contemplating the other. "No person has ever shown me any scrap of compassion, and now this." he thought. "My own mother loathes my existence, but this girl, she _cares_." Erik remembered their first meeting, was it really just one week ago? So much had happened since then. He remembered how she had walked awkwardly over to his table, the one they now sat at every day together, as _friends_. Then, he had acted cold and indifferent to her presence, but now? He was practically pouring out his soul to her. Although every particle of his body was against it, Erik felt his gaze soften as he glanced her way. What did this mean? Were his feelings more than friendly? Impossible! His heart yielded to no one! None the less . . .

"So, how are you getting along with the teachers so far?" he asked, bringing his thoughts to a close before they could run away with themselves. Myra came out of a revere, her head jerking upward slightly as she turned to face him.

"Oh, not that badly." she answered. "I have Ms. Kent as my science teacher. Although Chemistry is really boring, she's really nice and easy-going. What about you?"

"I don't tend to socialize much." he replied.

"I've noticed." Myra said, sarcastically. "But you must have noticed which teachers are hard, which aren't, which ones have those weird habits that make you twitch."

"There are a couple things." he answered. "My history teacher, Mr. Lefévre, writes up notes before class, an outline of all the things he _might_ get to during the day's lecture. This way, you have to remember what he says about the things mentioned in the outline while copying the _entire_ thing down, just in case he runs out of time."

"Yikes, I'm glad I don't have Honors History." she said, shivering with displeasure at the thought.

"It does require a certain amount of patience." Erik admitted. After thinking for a time, he decided to ask something that might tell him a little bit more about his friend's general personality.

"May I ask you a question?"

"You just did, but you may ask another." she answered, resting her head on her palm.

"What's your favorite flower?" She smiled thoughtfully. After some time looking up at the ceiling, she answered.

"Well, I like white lilies, they always seem to remind me of springtime and happiness. What about you?" Although he had thought of his answer before, Erik once again pondered the question.

"I prefer roses," he replied, "red ones."

"Why's that?" Myra asked, cocking her head in curiosity. She looked a little like a dog who is trying to understand what the humans around it are saying.

"I, I don't know exactly. They seem both solemn and beautiful."

"Yeah, they are." she nodded. "This is probably going to sound overly metaphoric, but people can be a lot like roses." She looked meaningfully at Erik. "Once you get past the thorns, they're really quite beautiful."

He felt the color slowly rising in his face, knowing the statement was directed at him. He answered with an equally meaningful look, "Some people's thorns are so small, they're hardly noticeable."

The bell rang, allowing the conversation to come to a convenient stop. Myra waved, hurrying off to class and hiding her face. If he was at all correct, she was blushing just as much as he was.

Sitting back on his chair and letting the professor's lecture sink into his memory, he found a small voice teasing him in the very back of his consciousness.

"You were hitting on her." it whispered.

"I was not." he protested. "Be quiet. I'm trying to concentrate." For some time, Erik once again listened to the lecture. Finally, as though it couldn't wait any longer, the taunting voice resumed its whispering.

"You know you were hitting on her. Don't deny it!"

"I do deny it!" he shouted in thought. "How can I flirt with a girl when I have a) known her for only a week and b) have never had any sort of attraction to any human being before in my lifetime?"

". . . You know you like her."

Just then the final bell rang. "We'll continue this later." he thought, suppressing the taunting voice. Shoving his books into his tired old backpack, Erik went to sit at his customary post on the small wall outside the school.

"Hi." Myra said, sitting next to him.

"Hello." he answered. "Did anything major happen after lunch?"

"No, not really. Um, that song you sung, it really was beautiful."

"Ah, so her mind has been only focusing on the past." he thought.

"Thank you," Erik answered, modestly, "although I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"Not at all! Did you really write it, like the words say?" she asked.

Now he slightly regretted singing to her. He had been writing music for as long as he could remember, but never shared it with anyone. Rather uncomfortably, he replied "Yes, I did."

"Wow." Her eyes widened, and Erik's eyes shifted nervously to the ground. "I can't believe you wrote that! It was the most melodious thing I've ever heard. And no, that wasn't an exaggeration."

"Thank you again." he answered, rather unsure how to accept compliments. "I've never actually sung for anyone before, not as though I had anyone I could sing to."

"Then let me be the first to tell you that you have amazing musical genius and a melodious voice."

"Once again, I'm sure you're exaggerating. I can't be any good, I've never had any instruction." He continued to persist in his idea of his own worthlessness. No one had ever given him reason to think otherwise before now.

"Erik, you're good." Myra replied, sincerely. "You have a natural talent in music. Have you written anything else?"

Here, he debated with himself about admitting, if vaguely, to starting his "Don Juan". He wasn't completely sure of its purpose yet, but knew it would be a key part of his life for many years to come.

"I've started something," he answered finally, "but it's far from completion."

"What is it?" she inquired.

"It's, it's an opera." Erik said, looking awkwardly at the ground. He saw her eyes widen larger than usual in shock.

"An opera!" she almost shouted. "That's the single hardest thing to compose! That settles it." She threw her hands in the air in an act of resignation.

"Settles what?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You're a genius! And don't try to deny it." Myra said, just as he opened his mouth in an effort to speak.

"I was just going to mention that your mother's coming." he indicated a familiar car parking nearby. "I can deny that later." he thought to himself.

"Shoot." she muttered, snatching her bag up and hurrying away from Erik. He watched her stop, some ways away, then walk slowly over to the car. Her breathing was a seemingly forced calm as she closed the car door behind her.

After the car's back end was out of sight, his eyes returned to the pavement in front of him. His mind wandered for some time, thinking about the day's homework. His feet kicked around a small pebble on the pavement before him. It rolled this way and that, until it fell out of his reach. That was when the argument started again.

"You like her." it started, tauntingly.

"I do not." he answered defiantly.

"Oh, so you hate her do you?"

"No, I don't hate her! I like Myra as a friend, nothing more."

". . . Denial." said the voice flatly.

"I am not in denial!" Erik retaliated. "And we are not going over this again."

His mother's car drove past the school, and he stood to follow. "My behavior is becoming more and more schizophrenic lately." he thought, closing the car door behind him. He stared intently at the familiar world flashing by the window in a blur of colors.

"How was your day?" Erik looked in shock at his mother. He moved his hand to his chin, closing his open jaw.

"Why do you ask?" he said, his attitude changing immediately from shock to suspicion.

"No reason," she answered casually, "I just wondered how your lady friend was doing."

"I knew it." he thought, his eyes glaring intently at the floor.

"She's fine." he replied stonily. The car pulled into the hard gravel driveway. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Erik walked toward the house, Clementina a few steps ahead of him.

"I liked you better when you didn't take such an interest in my life." he called angrily to her back. The front door slammed shut, inches from his nose.

Sighing and raising his eyes to the heavens, he reached for the door handle. Just as his fingertips touched the knob, he heard the click of the lock. His arm fell limply to his side.

"Not _again_." he thought dejectedly, automatically walking to the back of the house.

He tried opening all the windows, but his mother had evidently decided to lock them as well. He had managed to scale the walls using the help of the ivy before, but that was too long ago for him to think of trying it, especially while wearing his heavy backpack. Erik returned to the front of the house and laid out his homework on the front steps.

As darkness began to creep in against the blood-red rays of sunset, he closed his binders and stuffed them into his pack. Hurrying to the back yard, he searched among the weeds and saplings for the small hut he had made a few years back for those occasions when his mother locked him out of the house. It had been several months since it had last been used, so it was difficult to, ah there it was!

A small lean-to created out of large tree-branches and reeds. The woven mats used to cover the frame didn't keep it particularly warm, but at least dry. Layers of similar mats covered the floor, providing a primitive mattress. The ceiling was relatively low, but it was long enough for him to stretch out. Dragging his backpack into the rudimentary hut, Erik lay on the floor.

Closing his eyes with the sun's last dying rays, the picture of Myra swam into his head. His lips curled into a smile, and he slept.


	19. Chapter 19

Sorry I haven't updated in ages upon ages. I got out of my Phantom writing groove, and never got back into it 'till now. I can't say I was busy because I was busy before and made time to write. So I'll just say I'm sorry.

Okay, now's the time when I say R&R!!

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Myra was in an opera, a great gala. She was singing the Margaret in _Faust_ beautifully, and the audience was applauding. An almost sheepish smile crept across her face as she took her final bow. Then the stage melted away before her, and she was left standing looking at a mirror. She could tell from her running makeup that she had been crying. The beautiful white gown from the performance was torn; almost the entire hem was gone, the bodice was ripped up one of the front seams exposing her corset, one sleeve was completely gone and the other was ripped at the shoulder. As she moved closer to examine her reflection, the mirror cracked, distorting not only her image but her nerves. She sank to the ballet studio floor crying, hugging her pink stockinged legs to her chest. All about her rung out evil almost insane laughter.

Myra woke with a jolt. She was breathing heavily, and felt real tears welling in her eyes. She wiped them away and turned over to look at her alarm clock. It was three minutes before it was set to go off.

"I hate it when this happens." thought Myra. She struggled to remember her dream, but the details were already slipping away. It was like trying to catch the morning fog. "It certainly was a strange dream."

BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!

Groaning, she rolled over and shut off her alarm. Closing her eyes, Myra dearly attempted to remember some picture of her dream . . . a mirror . . . a torn, something . . . no use. Sighing, she grabbed at her bedframe, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

"I really don't want to get up today." she thought groggily. "I guess I didn't sleep so well."

All that morning, she hummed her little "Angel of Music," tune in order to make sure she didn't forget it. Two minutes before she had to leave, she went to the piano and hammered out the actual notes by ear, writing them down on a scrap of sheet music.

"Hurry up!" called Meliora.

"Coming, gosh!" replied Myra. "I have a watch, you know. I do have some concept of time."

"I know, but you just weren't showing that very well."

Myra grumbled, "Mothers."

As soon as she was at school, she hurried to her locker. She really was cutting it close. Myra shoved her books in a disorganized pile, grabbed what she needed, and closed the door with the customary metallic slam.

She jumped back a little with a sharp intake of breath. Right where the door had been, there was Erik, standing there with the most casual expression on his face.

In his melodic voice, he said, "Good morning."

"Umm, morning." replied Myra, her heart not quite settled down yet. "H-, hm, how did you know where my locker is?"

"I didn't." was his simple answer. "Better hurry to home room." And he turned around and walked away down the hallway.

Myra was left blinking after his retreating form for several seconds. Then she hurried off to her home room in a stupor. "That was weird-creepy," she thought," or creepy-weird. I can't decide. No, it was creepy-weird."

She could barely pay attention during morning classes. "I've got to make sure this doesn't become a habit." she thought, remembering all the other times she hadn't focused. "Why is that kid so creepy? I mean, he's not _that_ creepy. . . normally. But today that was, woah. Really creepy. Like haunted house creepy. I think it's that mask, it gives that feeling of the unknown. Everyone's afraid of the unknown. It's like choosing between the evil you know, and the evil you don't. I don't know which one I'd choose. Wow, that was quite a tangent. Must focus!!"

Blinking a few times to clear her mind, Myra listened to the lecture. From that point on, she took fairly good notes. Her conscious brain was focusing on the task at hand. However, her subconscious was on a different matter.

When the bell rang for lunch, she found herself again humming her "Angel of Music" tune.

_Angel of Music, guide and guardian,_

_Grant to me your glory_

_Angel of Music, hide no longer,_

_Come to me strange angel_

"Ooh, those words are new." she thought with surprise.

As soon as she placed her food on the table, she got out her assignment notebook and wrote down the new lyrics. After she finished, she finally looked up.

"Hello." said Erik, nonchalantly. "What were you writing so frantically?"

"Oh, nothing important." she replied, rubbing her eyes.

"You didn't sleep well?" he asked.

"No, not really. I had a dream, though."

"Really?" Erik inquired curiously. "What about?"

"That's the thing that's bugging me." Myra sighed in frustration. "I can't seem to remember it."

"Not even a snapshot? Usually, even if they're disconnected, I can remember a couple pictures from mine."

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, "I think, there was a broken mirror, and, oh yes, hideous laughter."

He looked at her quizzically. "Hideous? How so?"

"Well," Myra struggled to remember, "it was somewhere between, or a combination of malignity and insanity. The kind that chills your blood, that makes your hair stand up on the back of your neck."

"It certainly sounds hideous."

"Did you sleep alright?" she returned the question.

"Well enough." he answered vaguely, looking downward.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Myra inquired, struggling to catch his eye.

"Just what I said. Well enough."

"You're avoiding the question."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"_No_, I'm not."

"_Yes, _you _are_."

"Will you just drop it!" he snapped, turning to glare at her with a fierceness she hadn't seen before. Myra was silent, partly in obedience and partly in shock.

Only several minutes massed in this silence, but it seemed like hours. Finally, Erik spoke.

"I'm sorry I was so sharp with you. I didn't sleep well at all."

"Why?" was her quiet answer. She was still afraid of saying something wrong.

"Because. . . nothing."

"Okay." Myra replied timidly. She was tempted to press him on the subject, but dared not. Almost grateful that the bell rang, she threw out what little remained of her lunch.

"I'll see you later." she said. She didn't even see him acknowledge her farewell. Her friend seemed to be acting stranger and stranger as the day progressed.


	20. Chapter 20

Hi there, sorry it took ages to get this chapter out... but I finally got off my but and finished it. Hope you enjoy!

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Erik woke up with a start. His eyes shot open and he stared frantically around in the dark. He reached upward automatically for the string to turn on the light but felt only sticks and leaves. With a sigh, he remembered. "I'm outside, alone, again." He hit the back of his head on the ground in frustration. The headache moved to his forehead and he rubbed it with his knuckles. His eyes felt like lead, but his brain was alert. A picture swam before his mind's eye, a wooden boat on the glassy surface of a lake, a blueish glow coming from the water. "Must have been a dream," he thought, allowing the image to burn itself onto his memory. Almost out of habit, he glanced at his digital watch. The numbers glowed eerily in the darkness, 3:48 AM. "You have got to be kidding me." he sighed out loud.

Carefully moving out of the lean-to, so as not to send it tumbling down, he brushed the dead leaves off of his clothes and hair. Once out, the cool wind caressed his face, the scent had traces of morning dew. The air still had the chillness of night, and Erik hugged his arms close as he started to wander. He knew these woods as though they were his home and not the strange house looming out of the darkness. That assessment wasn't too far from the truth, he spent most of the summer out here, often not bothering to return home. She didn't care anyhow. In fact, one time, after he had been gone a full week, Erik could have sworn he saw _disappointment_ on her face when he finally walked in that door. That memory made a small half-smile creep up his face. He began to muse about what Myra's family must be like.

"I've only seen her mother, but she must have a father." he said, starting to talk to himself; there was no one to hear, anyhow. "Her mother must be one of those stay-at-home moms, dedicated to her children. She must have a younger sibling, a brother perhaps. And maybe a younger sister as well." Erik began imagining the entire family at a dinner table during the holidays. Her father, a dark-haired man with defined features and soft eyes sits at the head, laughing as he tells a story. Her mother, dressed up in pearls and a velvet dress, sits at his right, talks good-humoredly to the rest, and passes a dish of salad. There's the little sister, with luxurious brown curls, next to her mother, with a quizzical look on her young face. Across from her is the little boy, with mousy hair, squirming in his stiff suite. Myra, on the other side of her father, laughs with him and pushes a curl aside from her face. She's wearing a periwinkle dress with lace trim on the bodice and sleeves, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. The picture made him smile.

From there he went on to pass the time imagining the entire personalities and lives so far of all the family members. He started with the infamous mother, imagining her sheltered childhood and whirlwind romance with her now husband. The father, brought up privileged, passed his love of music to Myra, and his feeling of superiority to his wife. The little girl had been spoiled, but not too much, and had a precocious amount of intelligence that sometimes got her into trouble. The fair-haired lad loved playing in the mud and cared nothing for the fancy things he was given. Finally, on to Myra. She had a relatively normal childhood, with its fleeting joys and sorrows. Perhaps there had been a friend or two who had left a bitter memory, but she had retained her optimism. He could see her smiling, laughing face in his mind.

"This is all in my imagination," he reminded himself, skipping lightly over a rock formation at his feet. The sun peeked over the horizon, and Erik went back to the lean-to. Grabbing his backpack, he went to check if any doors or windows had been left open, or had been unlocked recently. To his satisfaction, the back door indeed had been unlocked sometime during the night, and he crept silently through it and up to his attic.

Sighing, he dropped the heavy bag next to his bed and laid down on it. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was his normal time to get up anyways. Erik groaned, heaving his body out of bed and starting his usual morning routine. As he came down the normal stairs for breakfast, he saw his mother sitting at the table. When she saw him, she jumped with surprise.

"When did _you_ get in." she asked, with the hint of disgust in her voice.

"Like you care." Erik said bitterly, getting out a bowl for cereal. He could tell he was in a bad mood, irritable from lack of sleep.

"You're right," she conceded, settling back into her seat, "there's no reason I should care."

"I don't need this from you this morning, mother." he snapped, glaring at her. She made no response, didn't even look up. They didn't speak any more that morning.

As Erik entered school, very early, he leisurely dropped his things in his locker with a clang. He punched it half-heartedly, trying to take out his anger on something inanimate. There was still barely anyone at the school, so he started wandering the halls, using his mental picture of the blue-print to know where he was at all times. He kept circling back to where the lockers were, wondering out of curiosity which one belonged to his friend. As people started to arrive, the corridors became increasingly more crowded and Erik shifted slowly toward the wall and out of the flow of traffic. He had no interest in going to his homeroom, and continued his slow methodic pacing of the hallways. As it got closer and closer to the time the bell was to ring, the halls again slowly cleansed themselves of bodies, and he noticed Myra rushing to her locker. Erik was close enough that he got right behind the locker door, making a point to memorize the number. It shut with a clang, and he saw her jump at the sight of him.

"Good morning." he said casually, leaning on the locker next to him. She looked very flustered, probably a combination of shock and adrenaline from being late.

"Umm, morning." Myra replied, still panting a little. "H-, hm, how did you know where my locker is?"

"I didn't." Erik answered, offering no farther explanation. "Better hurry to home room." he suggested, turning and following his own advise.

That morning, the teachers called on him more often than usual, and he got a few more fearing glances than he had before. During passing time between classes, he went to the men's room to see if his appearance had anything to do with it. Surprisingly, he looked relatively normal, other than a slightly deeper shade of purple under his eyes. He felt although like he was in an abnormal mood, abnormal in a bad way. After briefly analyzing himself, he hurried off to class.

As usual, he arrived at the customary lunch table before Myra, and watched her scribble frantically in her notebook with curiosity.

As soon as she looked up he said, "Hello. What were you writing so frantically?"

Rubbing her tired eyes, she answered, "Oh, nothing important." He raised an eyebrow quizzically, but decided against pressing.

"You didn't sleep well?" he half-asked, half-stated.

"No, not really." she shook her head. "I had a dream though."

"Really?" he asked, the vision of the lake swimming before his mind's eye. "What about?"

Myra sighed in frustration. "That's what's really bugging me. I can't seem to remember it."

"Not even a snapshot?" he suggested. "Usually, even if they're disconnected, I can remember a couple pictures from mine."

She looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, closing her eyes tightly. "Hmm, I think, there was a broken mirror, oh yes, and hideous laughter." She opened her eyes to look at Erik.

"Hideous?" he asked, looking at her intently. "How so?"

"Well," she closed her eyes again, trying hard to remember what must be a hazy image, "it was somewhere between, or a combination of malignity and insanity. The kind that chills your blood, that makes your hair stand up on the back of your neck."

He nodded, "it certainly sounds hideous."

Politely, she returned the question, "Did you sleep alright?"

"Well enough." he returned, looking down and thinking about why exactly he _hadn't_ slept well. "Stupid mother..." he thought.

"What's that supposed to mean?"she answered, and he could feel her eyes on him. He really didn't want to talk about it.

"Just what I said. Well enough."

"You're avoiding the question." she pressed.

"No I'm not." he insisted.

"Yes you are."

"_No_, I'm not." Erik persisted in gazing at the floor.

"_Yes, _you _are_."

"Will you just drop it!" he finally snapped, letting out both his frustration at her and at his mother. Myra fell silent, and Erik allowed a few minutes to pass as the anger died down to give way for remorse.

"I'm sorry I was so sharp with you. I didn't sleep well at all." He answered the question, feeling it was only fair.

"Why?" she asked hesitantly.

"Because . . ." he was on the verge of telling the truth but stopped himself, feeling it was better to wait, "nothing."

"Okay." Myra replied, and Erik was grateful she didn't press. Chances were, he admitted to himself, if she had asked again, he would have told her everything. The bell rang, cutting off their awkward moment.

"I'll see you later." she said over her shoulder, hurrying away. "I hope I didn't scare her too much." Erik wondered silently, checking his schedule and walking to class.


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry for being gone for so long, things are crazy lately... Ah well, enjoy! And pleae review, reviews are what encourages me to write more.**

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Myra's head rested heavily in the cup of her palm. Her other hand was mechanically scribbling the words that were coming into her ears. She glanced from her notes back up to her teacher, and was nothing but the dubious student. The reason for this sudden change? She wasn't thinking at all. Myra had become completely numb, going from class to class, sitting down, taking notes, getting back up again, and doing it all over again. When the final bell rang, she went to her locker, opened it, and stopped. Her brain, after being locked up for so long, went into overdrive with thought.

"Why didn't Erik sleep well? Why didn't he want to talk about it? Why did he sneak up on me this morning rather than just going to homeroom? Why was he even out in the halls so late? Why did he snap? What was that fierceness behind his eyes? Why doesn't he trust me with something so minor as a bad's night sleep? Why was he so interested in my dream? And what is behind that mask?" Her unneeded books fell with a loud clang at the bottom of her locker. She attempted to answer each question in turn. "He might have slept badly because of a nightmare, which would also explain his interest in my dream . . . Science textbook . . . He might not have wanted to talk about the nightmare because it involved either his past, his mother, or myself . . . English book . . . He snuck up on me because he wanted to know my locker number, maybe he's planning a surprise sometime later . . . Don't need history . . . ." Myra zipped up her backpack and flung it over one shoulder. "He waited for me, that's why he was in the halls. Either that or he had a reason not to go to homeroom. Is the teacher mean to him? Do the other students pick on him? Did the bullies figure out it was him that set the trap and they are in his homeroom? If so, did they catch up to him later? Okay, on to different question: the snapping and fierceness. He snapped because I pushed him over the edge. The fierceness . . ." She couldn't explain that one, other than that it was there. She walked with her usual quick gait toward the front doors of the school. "He doesn't trust me because he hasn't trusted anyone before, and he's still getting used to the idea. Then again, he might have trusted someone and they betrayed him. If they did, why did they do it? Hold on, you're getting ahead of yourself again." She stopped herself, pushing open the door in front of her and stepping into the cool air outside. "Finally, what is behind that mask? I don't know. I want to know. I really want to know. I have to know. I must know." Such was the progression of her thoughts as she briskly walked up to Erik by the wall.

"Hello." Her new determination overrode her previous fear and embarrassment.

Erik glanced her way, then returned his gaze to the ground. "Uh, hello." He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

Myra sensed his distance and asked, as casually as possible, "You've been acting weird all day, what's up?"

"Oh," he said, looking anywhere but her way, "nothing." Erik glanced around at the other students, scanned the cars, his eyes darting from one object to another very obviously avoiding Myra's searching gaze.

"Okay, listen," Myra prepared to reason with her strange friend, "my mom's going to be here any minute. Just tell me what's going on."

"Good." he said bitterly, finally glaring at her. "Let her come and take you back to your perfect life. Why won't you just leave me alone!" He turned his gaze back to the ground, as though trying to bore a hole in it with his stare.

She refused to be put off this way. "Something's bugging you, just tell me."

"Saying something doesn't change it." he protested, avoiding her eyes. She walked closer and bobbed her head this way and that, trying to catch his gaze. Erik evaded her mercilessly.

Myra sighed in frustration. "Come on, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm not the one," he retorted, "running around trying to catch the eyes of someone who doesn't want to talk to them." She rolled her eyes.

"This would be a lot simpler if you'd just tell me what's wrong."

His glare at the ground intensified. "There's nothing wrong."

"Now _you_," Myra said pointedly, "are a terrible liar. If you won't tell me what's wrong, will you let me see you without your mask on?"

Now he looked at her, but his eyes were swimming with too many emotions to count. She was expectant, thinking to get something out of him. Slowly, one emotion presented itself: rage.

"You insolent little hussy!" he growled. "You spend a week with a person and expect them to share their deepest darkest secrets? And why, to satisfy your childish curiosity? Is that all I am to you, some freakish magic show and you won't stop until you know how every trick was done?"

Myra's breath came in shallow gasps and she leaned with one hand on the low wall. "Why can't you trust me?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. This entire encounter was not what she had expected when she stepped outside.

"Trust you?" He put his face close to hers, and she kept her eyes down, barely daring to breath. "I hardly know you." His voice was a low ominous whisper. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me."

She felt like a dog that had just been dominated by its owner. Obediently, she waited for the command that would release her from her chastised state.

"There's your mother." Erik said. "Go on, you don't want to be seen with me." Myra turned from him, not looking back, and ran to her mother's car.

"So," said Meliora, the moment the door shut, "how was your day?"

Myra answered, "Fine."

Are you aware of the story of the little boy who put his finger in the dyke? A small child in Holland found a leak in the dyke by his town and put his finger in it to stop the hole. He ended up being a town hero, standing all through the cold night to protect them from all the water that could have come and swallowed up their tiny little town. That little boy had to endure a great deal before he took his finger out of the hole. Luckily, there were people there ready to fill the hole when the finger was removed. If the people hadn't found the boy, he would never have become famous because he along with the entire town would be at the bottom of a lake. The story was about courage, or perhaps foolishness. The boy could easily have gone off and found the mason, who was snoring away contentedly in his house only two blocks away. However, he chose to stand there with his finger in a hole and wait, hoping someone would stumble across him. Myra was in the position of the little boy, at this time, with her little finger holding back the roaring tide of emotions that threatened to swallow up her bustling town of a mind. Her mother didn't press her about her day, and she went up to her room, book-bag in tow, and her little finger still in the dyke. Half-way through her math assignment, however, she had to pull that finger out. She had already endured enough hardship that it was time, but, unlike that lucky little boy, there was no one there to wall up the hole, and she hadn't gone for the mason. Myra's head dropped limply on the desk in front of her and her arms came up around her head. She felt helpless, hopeless, useless, overwhelmed, and disbelief. All these emotions flooded her mind, threatening to destroy it.

"I can't have lost him that easily," she thought, "can I?" His words rung in her ears, she could still hear the hate in them. . . Did he really hate her? "I can't have messed up that badly, right?" she tried to reassure herself. "I'll get him back, he has to come back. He has nowhere else to go." But she corrected herself. "He was alone before, he can be alone again . . . ." Had she done so little for him? Myra trembled and closed her eyes. "I won't let that happen . . . I can't . . . ."

She turned away from her unfinished work, slipped on a nightgown and slid under the covers. Her emotions were ruling her, making the tears slide down her face, making her hold on to Erik as though she were the one with no one else to turn to. "I'll talk to him tomorrow." she decided. "I'll convince him that I won't leave him alone, I'll make him trust me." She fell heavily into a dreamless sleep that took the place of all feeling.


	22. Chapter 22

Well, I'm working steadily now! Surprise, surprise! Review for more!

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History. He hated history, it always ended up repeating itself because people were stupid enough not to learn from their mistakes. Unfortunately, Erik didn't have time to think in history, thanks to Mr. Lefavre. The pencil scratched away busily on paper, the words flinging themselves across his consciousness. When the liberating bell rang, he hurried off to his locker, retrieving the books for his next class. Well, he was determined not to allow history to repeat itself. Through his silent study of mankind, he saw that people hurt other people, and on a fairly regular basis. He didn't want to hurt Myra, and he had already scared her once (or perhaps twice) that day. It would be better if he removed himself entirely from her life, and let her go on being blissfully unaware. "She's far to inquisitive anyway," he thought, as though convincing himself.

Erik went to his next two classes determined to do this. However, as he turned to leave the building, he began to doubt. Was this really best? Was this really a split-second decision that he wouldn't be able to stand by? "No, I have to do this." He repositioned his bag and continued walking.

At the wall, he started to re-analyze his reasons for this rational decision. What was it based on, really? Had his mother convinced him that friendship was useless? "No, she has nothing to do with this," he thought. "I have to protect Myra from myself, that's all." Just then, Myra walked up to him.

"Hello." she said, and Erik glanced her way. He felt that somehow, if he looked into her eyes, his determination would waver.

"Uh, hello." He focused his eyes on the ground. "You've got to do this," he repeated to himself, as though convincing himself.

As though trying to be nonchalant, she asked, "You've been acting weird all day, what's up?"

He barely acknowledged her question, continuing to avoid eye contact. "Oh, nothing."

Myra sighed and her voice took on a new, matter-of-fact tone. "Okay, listen, my mom's going to be here any minute. Just tell me what's going on."

Erik made an exception, deciding that a glare wasn't the same as looking at someone. "Good. Let her come and take you back to your perfect life. Why won't you just leave me alone!" he thought... and said. He turned his gaze back to the ground, wondering why his tongue was running away from him. "I didn't mean to say that . . ." he felt like turning and apologizing, but knew that would be a downward spiral away from his resolution. He couldn't help hoping this comment would shock her enough to make her leave.

"Something's bugging you," she insisted on continuing their conversation, "just tell me."

"Saying something doesn't change it." he thought, and said again. "Did I just admit that something's wrong? No, nothing's wrong," he reckoned, "I'm doing the only possible thing." Myra was ducking this way and that, trying to catch his eyes, but he continued to avoid her.

"Come on, you're being ridiculous." she sighed, exasperated.

Erik remarked coldly, "I'm not the one running around trying to catch the eyes of someone who doesn't want to talk to them."

"This would be a lot simpler if you'd just tell me what's wrong."

His glare at the ground intensified as he had to convince himself again. "There's nothing wrong."

"Now _you_," she remarked, "are a terrible liar. If you won't tell me what's wrong, will you let me see you without your mask on?"

Erik looked at her in disbelief. What had she said? What had she asked? She wanted to see him, _him_? No, she couldn't see. She wouldn't. He wouldn't let this year be like all the others. All his fear boiled into rage. How dare she! This girl had no right to ask such a thing, after she already knew he was monstrous!

"You insolent little hussy!" he thought, and said. Too late now, he continued his rant out-loud. "You spend a week with a person and expect them to share their deepest darkest secrets? And why, to satisfy your childish curiosity? Is that all I am to you, some freakish magic show and you won't stop until you know how every trick was done?"

Myra leaned on the wall, seeming close to fainting. "Why can't you trust me?" she questioned.

Erik barely laughed. "Trust you?" He put his face close to hers, sure he radiated as much rage as he felt. She kept her eyes down. "I hardly know you. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me." That was it, he'd said it. Now he had to trust that she would listen to him.

He saw her mother's familiar car drive up. Making an embarrassed effort at kindness, he said bitterly, "There's your mother. Go on, you don't want to be seen with me." Myra turned and ran away. Erik didn't watch her leave.

He found himself less satisfied than he had expected. He had effectively rid himself of his only friend. "Who am I kidding," he reflected, "she wasn't my friend. I hardly knew her, and she didn't know me, thank goodness. It's better this way, the way it used to be." Erik understood that he was afraid of what contact offered, he didn't need it. He had survived this long without it.

"Survived" is the correct word, he hadn't lived. He had gone through every day methodically, finding refuge in his music, which was exactly where he turned next. Erik walked up to his mother's car and closed the door behind him with a louder than usual thunk.

"You don't have to worry about Myra anymore." he informed Clementina.

"Hmph," she sniffed, "you mean _you_ don't have to worry about her anymore." He didn't deny her.

As soon as the car pulled up to the old house, Erik jumped out and almost ran to the front door. Finding it locked, he tugged on it with great force, as though trying to break it. When it didn't yield, and his mother was taking her own time in getting there to unlock it, he picked up a stick from the yard and broke the front window. The familiar silver sound of scattering glass filled his ears and he vaulted himself through the opening.

"Demon!" his mother screamed, fumbling with the keys in her hands. He ignored her, sprinting to the old, out-of-tune piano stowed away in one of the far rooms.

His backpack fell with a fwump on the hardwood floor, completely forgotten. He flung sheet music with an untidy red scrawl on them on the music stand and began to play furiously. He poured out his rage and fear and hate into the music, scribbling more notes as they came to him. The rooms nearby filled with the great and terrible music, melodic and dissonant. At the top of the first page, which lay on a nearby chaise, was scratched "Don Juan Triumphant." Erik worked all that afternoon, evening, and well into the night without interruption. Even Clementina, with all her spite, knew better than to interrupt him while he was working. She stayed at the other side of the house, so as to avoid the noise.

This work was his only escape. He had started it only two years ago, and already was near completing the first act. Erik knew that a great change would happen when it was finished. Until then, he worked. Oblivious to him, the sun grew low in the sky and set, stars came out to wink down mockingly at him. He ignored it all, thinking only of the next measure, the next line . . .


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey, I've gotta apologize for not writing in ages. GOMEN NESAIIIII!!!! Now that that's over with, here's the chapter! Oh, and I love reviews, in case you hadn't noticed, so please and thank you?**

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By morning, Myra's resolution had weakened significantly. Now that the sun was shining, with the warm shower water gliding down her back, Myra saw that her previous decisions were not only difficult to carry out, but were entirely selfish. If he wanted to be alone, why shouldn't he be? She let her mind linger on this statement. "As long as he knows I'll always be open to friendship, is there anything I can really do? Maybe the best way to do this is to let him come to me. . . ." She turned off the water and fluffed her glistening locks with a hair dryer.

Filled with new decisiveness, she carefully placed her books in order in her bag. She had the urge to tell her mother that she had nothing more to worry about in regards to Erik, but figured it would do her no good admitting she had disobeyed if she might end up doing it again.

"I'm ready." Myra said flatly to her mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table and eating a bowl of cereal.

"Alright then." Meliora got up and dropped the half-finished bowl in the sink, grabbed her purse and opened the front door. Myra followed the retreating figure to the car, looking inward.

The smell of rain tinted the air a pale blue, despite the cold glare of the morning sun. Dew collected on the soles of her sneakers. The climate had the last hints of summer – it would be a warm day.

The more Myra thought about it, she should really let Erik do what he wanted. Who was she to try to control him? "Besides," she told herself, "I really need to branch out and meet more people."

"So, how's school going?" Myra hadn't noticed the silence until her mother broke it.

"Oh," she consented to conversation, "fine. Science is nice."

Her mother looked surprised, glancing at her daughter. "Really? You didn't seem like the science type of girl."

"I'm not." she answered crisply. "The teacher is nice, that's all." Meliora nodded, and they returned to silence.

Myra wondered then about who she'd talk to now... There was really noone she knew. This fact shocked her, though her face didn't show it. Was it true? She had not one person left in the entire school? She racked her brain for one other name, just one, but could find none.

She waved routinely at her mother as she left the car, walking toward the doors and hoping that she might meet someone during the coarse of the day. Myra opened her locker, deposited her things and removed, accordingly. It was only when she closed her locker and felt her spirits sink that she realized her hope that her friend would be standing there. She thought, "Maybe he's not so creepy after all."

Myra passed the day concentrating on schoolwork, something she felt she hadn't done since the beginning of classes. She was a fairly unobtrusive presence among her peers, so since Erik wasn't around, no one talked to her. At lunch, she sat alone at her customary table in the back. She couldn't help wondering where her friend could be, but assumed that he was simply avoiding her. Myra had a feeling that Erik could avoid detection when he felt occasion to do so. Not only was she not in any of his classes, but she didn't see him in the halls. However, she concentrated on her studies and didn't allow herself to think about anything other than the thing in front of her.

Outside, sunlight danced lightly through clouds. Upon returning home, she indulged herself in playing the piano. She let the melodies flow out of her, letting the music express what she could not. Myra was utterly bewildered at herself. Her mind told her that she had no right, or need, to interfere any more with Erik's life than he asked. Her heart, however, urged her to make contact with him, saying that he needed her more than she needed him. After half an hour of playing whatever came to her fingertips, Myra gave up on thinking and did her homework.

There was a subtle nock on her door. She grunted to let the person on the other side know that they were allowed to enter. Glancing up from her geometry problem, she saw her mother looking down at her.

"You play beautifully, you know," Meliora said absently.

"Thanks." came Myra's automatic response.

"You could be a concert pianist, play for audiences. You're that good." she assured her daughter.

Pursing her lips, she responded coldly, "Mom, I have a lot of work to do, so can you, um, not interrupt?"

Meliora looked slightly shocked, even hurt. She replied, "Alright, I'll leave you to your work," and backed out, closing the door softly behind her.

Grateful to be left alone, she let her attention turn to the problem in front of her; the one she could solve.

The next day, she awoke to her mother gently shaking her. "Honey, it's time to get up."

Myra jolted out of her trance-like sleep. Glancing at the alarm clock next to her bed, she saw that she had neglected to turn it back on. A low growl of frustration escaped her lips as she flung the covers off and hurried to dress and shower. Because she rushed to get ready, Myra ended up at school a full ten minutes earlier than usual. She blindly cursed at her luck, not even wondering what it was she was angry with. Slamming her locker vehemently, Myra sprang backwards a good three feet in surprise.

"Erik!" she gasped, rushing forwards and giving him the most heartfelt bear-hug. "I'm so happy to see you, you can't even imagine!"

"Good morning to you too." her friend answered, looking more bewildered than she had ever seen him. "You're here early."

"Oh," she waved it off, "I slept in." Myra paused, rethinking her statement. "That makes no sense. See, I slept in, so I rushed, and I got off early . . ."

Erik held up his hand to stop her, saying "I understand."

Myra felt herself throwing caution to the wind, but couldn't control herself. "I'm sorry, really truly sorry, if I've offended you in any way. I take it all back. You only should tell me what you want to, and I shouldn't have pushed. I was wrong, it was all my fault . . ."

"Stop." he said coldly, making her pause mid-sentence. She was shocked, wondering what she had done wrong this time. Only then did she realize how small a thread this relationship hung on. Myra panicked, a thousand incoherent thoughts rushing through her brain. "Stop saying what you think I want to hear. I was the selfish one, I should be the one apologizing. So, I'm sorry."

The silence relaxed. "Alright then." she breathed a sigh of relief.

"So we can go back to being, uh," Erik fumbled uncertainly for words, "whatever it was we were before. . ."

"Friends." Myra finished for him. With some awkwardness, she extended her hand, feeling another hug inappropriate. With an equal degree of awkwardness, he shook it. Myra couldn't help but notice a peculiar tingling running up her arm from her hand. She laughed uncertainly, and Erik did the same.

"What do you say we talk until homeroom?" he asked.

She answered, "You don't need an invitation for a conversation."

"Yeah, right, of course. . ."

Afterwards, the two of them had a blissfully uneventful conversation.


	24. Chapter 24

**Hey there! I'm gonna try to write more often, I know I haven't regularly updated in ages, but I think I'll try to do a chapter a week. However, reviews are EXCELLENT motivation for updates. So, please? puppy dog face**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera, the musical, book, movie, none of it. Wish I did, but that's how life works.**

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Erik's head drooped listlessly onto his chest where he sat at the piano bench. The broken ivory keys in front of him blurred into darkness. When he opened his eyes, he was sitting at a different, yet similar instrument. An organ, and he was playing with the same furiousness as he had before. He saw the music in front of him shimmer in the candlelight, and he glanced about the room. The air felt moist and heavy, and he saw a little alcove hidden by a curtain. He knew, without going to look, that a bed was behind the velvet, and that Myra slept there. Turning back to the music, Erik saw that the notes were different, and that it was from Act 5 of his opera. He didn't stop to question it, only let his hands fall on the keys, the notes more melodic than before. Faint swishing sounds came from behind him, and he knew that she was awake. He stopped playing, waiting for her. She didn't look the same, she was older, he was older, yet he knew it was her.

"Let us sing something from the Opera, Christine Daae." He didn't pause to think what he had just called her. Erik didn't have to search for the music, and immediately began a piece from Othello. She sang the role of_ Desdemona_, he that of _Othello_. Suddenly, she reached forward and tore off his mask. He saw the look of terror on her face and heard her scream, only for a moment, before he jolted awake.

A pink dawn stretched over the sky, which was otherwise fairly clear and cold. Erik rubbed his eyes, as though that would remove the picture in his mind of her horrified face. He took out an entirely new piece of paper and wrote with music about the dream, trying to remember the melodies that had appeared on the pages. With dulcet tones, he described her sweetness and beauty. Then the music suddenly changed to raging dark chords and fearful trills, as he remembered her screams. All this he wrote, and titled the page "Act 5". Flinging that aside, he resumed his work where he had dozed off.

About two hours later, his mother's cries could be heard as she stormed through the house. "Shut that awful racket!" Clementina, clutching her hands to her head, opened the door and slammed it behind her. When he didn't even look up, she stomped up to the piano and shut it on his hands. Erik cried out in pain rather than surprise.

"You're going to be late for school!" she yelled, and it was Erik's turn to clutch his ears.

"You're standing right in front of me, you don't have to scream." he said with a numb calmness.

"Obviously I do," she continued to scream, "because you won't listen to me if I don't!"

Erik burst out, "You don't even care if I go to school, you never did! You just want me out of the house for eight hours every day!"

"You can hardly blame me! Who wouldn't want a little relief from torture every now and then if they could get it!" Clementina screeched.

"What do you do all day when I'm gone, mother?" he asked satirically. "Sit in your dusty armchairs and cry?"

"No," she answered, her voice exploding with anguish, "I fall on my knees and pray that God will take you away so that I can start to live again."

"Well, that's new." Erik said, his voice taking on a dark vivid tone. "Do yourself a favor and lock the door on your way out, it closes a little tighter that way. I'm not going to school today."

She didn't argue when he sounded like that, slamming and locking the door as she left. Glad to be alone again, he returned to composing.

When he was at work, he found that time passed without him being aware it had. Only in looking at a clock or the passage of the sun could he ever tell when in the day it was, or how much time had lapsed. During that time, he ate, breathed, and drank up music. That time, his Don Juan met an old friend, long forgotten. Together they sang a song of remembrance, convincing each other that they had never really forgotten what it had been like to play together. They sang of friendship, how it always forgave but never forgot. It was a curious way they addressed both each other and themselves with the same words. The song ended with a quiet melodic lament that they had lost contact for so many years. Erik could hear the orchestra diminuendo along with the singers if he closed his eyes.

He chanced to look out the window in time to see the crimson sun sink beneath the horizon. Had he actually spent an entire day figuring out the way to make the harmonies just melodic and dissonant enough to capture the dim tone of nostalgia? His stomach growled, and this time he heard it. Not bothering to see what time it was, he went to the kitchen to fix himself something or other to eat. There was absolutely nothing edible in the cabinets. Even the box of cereal was empty. Frustrated, and now hungry, Erik wrote "groceries" in big bold letters on a pad of paper, tore off the sheet, and placed it beneath a magnet on the refrigerator.

Erik grumbled something like, "careless," as he returned to his backpack and did all his homework from the night before. By the time he went to bed, he realized how tired his body had become. He made sure that his alarm was on and climbed into his bed.

The next morning, he woke on time and went through his morning routine. Drying himself off after his shower he realized how panic-driven his decision to stay away from Myra had been. It had been very selfish really. He had said horrible things to her, and for what? Anger started to fill his breast, and he glared fiercely at the reflection in front of him. Why had he done it? He had probably hurt her, which was exactly what he had set out not to do. Silver glitter puffed off the mirror as his fist shattered it. He looked down at his hand, which was now bleeding, with annoyance. Grabbing a bandage and some fingerless gloves, he left the bathroom. One could see that the fist had fallen exactly where his mask had been.

Erik went down to the kitchen and absentmindedly checked the cereal box, finding it just as empty as it had been the previous night. He sighed and put it in the garbage. He could hear his mother in one of the adjoining rooms.

"It's time to go." he said, walking in to confront her.

"So you're actually going this time?" she replied, not looking up from her newspaper.

He nodded, saying, "I'm ready to leave."

"Obviously I'm not." Clementina spat, gesturing both at the paper in front of her and at her nightgown.

In reply, Erik snatched the paper out of her hands and ripped it in half. "I'm not in a mood to argue this morning. Come on, while you're out you can get groceries."

"You have no respect," she said indignantly, standing up and going upstairs to change.

He yelled up the stairs at her, "You certainly didn't teach me any!" Five minutes later they were in the car.

At school, he dropped all his books and binders in his locker and went to check out Myra's, to see if she was there yet. He was determined to apologize to her, and only dared to hope it would be accepted. To his surprise, she was already at her locker when he got there. Erik didn't try to muffle his footsteps as he walked and leaned against the next locker, his form completely hidden by the open one. When the locker finally closed, Myra jumped backwards a surprising distance.

"Erik!" she veritably screeched and rushed forward. She hugged him. Touch alone was foreign, but this? It was forceful, warm, and appalling. He had barely recovered from the shock, hearing her say, "I'm so happy to see you, you can't even imagine!"

Erik fumbled for words, saying "Good morning to you too." Collecting himself a little more he said, "You're here early."

She said flippantly, "Oh, I slept in." His brain attempted to process the non-sequitur. He must have looked perplexed because Myra said, "That makes no sense. See, I slept in, so I rushed, and I got off early . . ."

Seeing she was about to start talking uncontrollably, he held up a hand to stop the veritable torrent of language. "I understand." he said.

She paused for a fraction of a second before saying, "I'm sorry, really truly sorry, if I've offended you in any way. I take it all back." He found her apology ridiculous. He was the one who had offended, wasn't he? The more irritating bit about it was that it was heartfelt: she really thought he was hurt. But she was still speaking. "You only should tell me what you want to, and I shouldn't have pushed. I was wrong, it was all my fault . . ."

He couldn't take it any more. He interrupted, "Stop. Stop saying what you think I want to hear. I was the selfish one, I should be the one apologizing. So, I'm sorry."

Erik felt the electricity flying through the air settle down. "Alright then." Myra said, sounding at ease.

"So we can go back to being . . ." He paused. He wanted to say friends, but felt it was too hasty. "Uh, whatever it was we were before . . ."

She said it for him. "Friends." She extended her hand toward him, and he realized he was expected to shake it. Awkwardly, he took it, finding he didn't want to let it go. But he did, and found he could still feel her warm touch, a strange tingling sensation. Myra laughed with a degree of uncertainty, and he followed in suit. This was all so strange.

Erik asked, "What do you say we talk until homeroom?"

"You don't need an invitation for a conversation." she barely laughed.

He fumbled for words, saying, "Yeah, right, of course. . ."

The following conversation involved no repressed memories or unrepressed ones, no unpleasantness at all. It was, for lack of another word, uneventful.


	25. Chapter 25

**Hey everyone, sorry for not updating in AGES!! I'll get the other chapter up soon, I promise! Review and I might get it out even sooner.  
-Cadringiel**

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Myra went to homeroom with a beaming smile on her face. She bit down on her lip in a small attempt to hide it, but what did she care if people knew she was happy? Besides, the smile twitched at her cheeks no matter what she did mentally to force it away.

"You're happy this morning." Myra turned around in surprise. Behind her, sitting casually on the desk, was an Asian girl in baggy black capri pants, a fitted red t-shirt, and small fishnet fingerless gloves. "I couldn't help noticing," she continued, her voice of a low mezzo-soprano timber, "quite a difference from the black cloud of yesterday."

Myra's smile became embarrassed. "You could tell I was in a bad mood?"

"You're kidding, right?" The girl shifted her position to look at Myra skeptically. Myra noted her short layered hair and bangs swinging into her eyes, which she pushed back with a flick of her hand. "I'm surprised it didn't start raining in here."

Myra laughed, and the girl joined her. "Oh, I'm Myra by the way," she said, extending her hand.

"Akemi," she replied, shaking the hand airily. "So, you know anyone here?"

Still smiling, Myra answered, "Sort of, but he's not here."

Akemi smiled knowingly. "Oh, your boyfriend?"

"No!" she shook her head, eyes widening. "No, he's not my boyfriend. We're just friends."

She laughed. "Really? Because you answered a little too quickly."

"Really, he's not." Myra forced the color away from her cheeks.

"Whatever you say," Akemi paused, "hey, what was your name again?"

"Myra. And you're?"

"Akemi." A half-smile crept up her lips. "What's your boyfriend's name?"

Laughing again, she answered, "He's not my boyfriend! And his name is Erik."

Akemi smiled, then looked up at the ceiling, clasping her hands romantically. "Oh, Erik, Erik, wherefore art though!"

Myra laughed half-heartedly, pushing her off the desk. "Oh, quit it." She dropped lightly to the ground, stuck out her tongue, and sat behind Myra in the desk. Twisting around to talk, Myra said, "I only met him a week ago, okay."

"So, basically, on the first day of school?" Akemi leaned forward and rested her head on folded arms.

"Uh huh." Glancing at the clock at the front of the room, she asked, "So, you know anyone here?"

She shook her head, "Nah."

Myra raised her eyebrows questioningly, her smile still hadn't faded. "What have you done this past week?"

"Other than get up the courage to talk to you?" she laughed. "But honestly, mostly schoolwork." Just then the bell rang. "I'll see you later." she said, slinging a black messenger bag over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Myra waved, "see you later." Hugging her books to her chest, a smile still curling at her lips, she thought, "Well, make that two people I know."

Morning classes passed in a knowledge-filled blur. Since the first week was out of the way, the teachers seemed to feel they could cram information into the students' heads. Myra struggled to keep up in taking notes, but she felt as though she didn't learn anything during the actual class period and would have to go over what she had written at home in order to retain any of it. Akemi had been in her history class, but she hadn't been able to talk to her at all. Her hand still aching, she headed off to lunch.

"Hey!" Myra turned round to see Akemi, messenger bag bumping along behind her, running to catch up to her in the lunch line.

"Hey," she responded, "what's up?"

"Not much," Akemi said, catching her breath, "history was a killer, though, huh?"

She nodded, "Yeah, does he think we're all speed-writers or something, it was crazy."

The pair chatted about nothing particular as they marched down the line and it wasn't until she was paying for her lunch that Myra realized Akemi would probably want to sit with her. That meant sitting with Erik. She was far from unsure whether this would be acceptable, she knew it wouldn't be. Erik was barely used to social interaction with one person, she couldn't imagine him as part of a group of friends. The only real question was how to tell Akemi that, even though she liked her very much, she couldn't sit with her. As Akemi's change chinked in the register, Myra took the necessary deep breath.

"Uh, hey, Akemi, listen," she paused, making sure she phrased this correctly so as to be truthful yet sensitive to Erik at the same time, "Erik and I just had a little fight, and he's really shy, so, um . . ."

"Oh," Akemi chewed on her lip and nodded, "I get it. It's fine. Maybe another time." She seemed to force a small smile and headed off down the hallway in a direction that even Myra knew didn't lead to any cafeteria. Myra felt guilt twist in her stomach, but knew it was for the best.

Trying not to think about it, she headed toward the back of the lunchroom, her smile no longer twitching at the corners of her mouth. She tried to force a small one as she got closer to the table, but it quickly fell from her lips. Erik watched her closely as she sat down, his eyes questioning.

There was a slight awkward pause before he asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." she partly lied. She was glad that Erik was back, overjoyed really, but she felt badly blowing off Akemi.

Erik's brow assumed a skeptical pose. "I know when someone is in a bad mood."

Half smiling, she nodded. "Okay, so I'm not fine. But it's not a big deal." He looked like he was going to ask more, so she quickly changed the subject. "Where were you yesterday, I didn't see you all day."

"Oh, working." he waved it off.

Myra perked up, "You have a job?"

Quickly, Erik shook his head, letting one hand lightly brush his mask. "No one would hire me."

"Oh . . ." she still didn't know what he meant by "working" but didn't want to press given the situation. Offhand, she wondered whether they would ever get to a point in their friendship in which they were completely comfortable with one another. "It's always awkward at the beginning," she thought to herself.

"So I was wondering," Erik shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "if you'd like to, um . . ."

"Yes?" Myra said, encouragingly.

"Um," his gaze shifted to the floor, "if you'd like to come over my house again." He glanced up. She didn't respond right away, wondering briefly if her previous excuse would work again. Erik hurriedly said, "If you don't want to, it's fine, I don't mind." It was clear from his tone that he really did mind.

"Oh, no," Myra quickly responded, "I'd love to. When?"

Something like a smile flitted across his lips, but it was gone before she could be sure what she had seen. "Are you free on Friday?"

"Absolutely." Myra smiled to herself at a sudden thought. "Maybe this time we should go out to eat out, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe." Erik looked uncomfortable again.

She hurried to say, "Nothing fancy, McDonald's would be fine, just to avoid another, erm, incident."

He nodded darkly.

Over the next few days, Myra settled into a routine with Akemi. They would talk during homeroom and in the lunch line, but after that they would go their separate ways. She learned that Akemi had a younger brother, both parents, and a fish named Ralph, who she talked to often. She never found out where Akemi went to eat her lunch, and probably preferred not knowing.


	26. Chapter 26

**I said I'd get it out and I did! See, I keep some of my promises. Please review!! My Phantom kick will only last so long, and then it'll be back to not updating! Thank you!  
-cadringiel**

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Erik headed off to homeroom, head down, with a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. "Things are back to normal," he almost thought, but reminded himself that "normal" was before the past two weeks. Before her. With a pang, he remembered holding her on that fateful evening. Her tears had felt like daggers, but they had stopped, and she had smiled. With a jolt, he bumped into someone going the opposite direction.

"Hey, sorry man." He looked up. It was the red-headed bully from before. He barely laughed at the look on the boy's face, one of terror and shock. "I should have w-watched where I was g-going," he hastily stuttered, "r-really, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Erik replied, keeping the humor out of his voice as best as possible. He turned away and walked toward the classroom. "I guess it worked," he muttered to himself.

In homeroom, as in all his classes, no one talked to him. He avoided the rest of the world with his eyes, and it seemed to do the courtesy in ignoring him. Erik still sent out the message "I don't want contact," even though it was no longer true. He contemplated, no, it was still true. He had one person, that was enough. He neither wanted nor needed anyone else. For years, he hadn't even considered the possibility of one person, content to be alone. However, now that he had it, despite his previous attempt at severing their bond, he actually needed this relationship. Erik allowed himself a moment to take in that reality: he needed another person. And not just for shelter or warmth or food, but for contact. For survival.

Between classes, he kept his eyes out for the bullies again. Whenever he saw them, and they noticed him, they had a tendency to pick up their pace and look away. He had a great urge to say "Boo" at them, see what they would do, but he didn't let himself. "Maybe another time," he thought, "when I need a laugh." Right now, he figured, he had enough to enjoy.

Between second and third period, he came across them bugging another boy, who really was scrawny, with skin and hair so pale he decided he had to be albino. He didn't have to guess what they were teasing him about. Normally, he would have walked right by and not given it a second thought. But now, nothing was normal anymore. Now he looked at this boy and saw how he had been in the same situation, and he felt for this boy. He walked over to where they were, and decided to help this stranger.

"Hey," he made his presence known. The bullies jumped and turned to look at him. "Leave him alone." They couldn't get away fast enough, tripping over each other like something out of a cartoon. Once again, Erik held back his laughter. He glanced at the albino, who was fixing his glasses and picking up his books.

"I don't know how you did that," the boy said, "but thanks." Erik didn't answer, but continued toward his next class.

"My god," he thought, "I'm practically human."

During class, his mind again wandered to how badly the past Friday had gone. It really couldn't have been any worse unless his mother had actually ripped off his mask. He wanted to make up for it, he wanted to spend more time with Myra outside of school. Good time. He figured his mother had gotten her ranting out for at least another two weeks, even though he could never be sure. All the same, he wanted to invite her over again. They were officially friends after all.

At lunch, he patiently waited for Myra to arrive. When he saw her moving toward him, he could automatically tell something was wrong. She had been all smiles this morning, but now her eyes were clouded, and the one smile she flashed his way was obviously fake. He tried to think what might have happened.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She paused ever so slightly before replying, "Yeah, I'm fine." Her tone was reluctant and preoccupied.

"And she accused me of being a bad liar." he thought. Even though she was trying to hide it, after years of living with someone perpetually unhappy, he could always tell. He said, "I know when someone is in a bad mood."

Myra nodded, consenting. "Okay, so I'm not fine. But it's not a big deal." From her tone, again, he could tell that, whatever it was, it did matter to her. Given how often she had pressed him, he decided it was his turn. He was about to speak when she interrupted, "Where were you yesterday, I didn't see you all day."

"Oh no," he thought, "I forgot I didn't come to school yesterday. What do I say?"

After a quick deliberation on how to phrase closest to the truth, yet not make the truth obvious, he replied, "Oh, working," and tried to make it as casual as possible.

"You have a job?" she asked. "Wrong answer," he reprimanded himself.

Erik shook his head, remembering the numerous times his mother had kept him from applying anywhere despite their borderline poverty. "No one would hire me," he said, brushing his mask as a kind of explanation.

"Oh . . ." she answered, looking like she wanted to ask more but she never did. Erik still wanted to know what was bugging her, but decided to move on to another matter.

"So I was wondering, if you'd like to, um . . ." his resolve faltered. What if his mother decided to say more, or do more, than last time? She was always one to make things worse, and talking to her never got anywhere.

"Yes?" Myra asked, seeming to hope he would continue. Reluctantly, he obliged, he really did want to ask her.

"Um, if you'd like to come over my house again." Unconsciously, his eyes had shifted to the floor, but now he looked up, seeking encouragement. When she hesitated, he instantly thought, "She doesn't want to, and I can hardly blame her after what happened."

"If you don't want to, it's fine," Erik hurried to say, "I don't mind."

Myra shook her head vigorously, saying "Oh no, I'd love to. When?"

He could feel something warm bubbling inside of him, threatening to burst forth and laugh with pure . . . was this happiness?

"Are you free on Friday?"

She smiled, a real smile this time. "Absolutely." Her smile widened as she continued, "Maybe this time we should go out to eat out, huh?"

He tried to remember the last time he had actually gone to a public place with his mother, but he couldn't. Erik also wondered what kind of restaurant he would be able take her to, on their limited budget. "Yeah, maybe," he answered, trying not to let his reservations show.

Her quick response told him just the opposite had been accomplished. "Nothing fancy, McDonald's would be fine, just to avoid another, erm, incident."

Erik didn't know if going out would have avoided what happened, but he knew she was making an effort. He nodded, trying to keep his mother's words from ringing in his ears. "It's because of you . . . It's because of you . . . ."

In the car that afternoon, he informed his mother of the situation. She teased him some more about Myra, and threatened again to show her his true face.

"You will do nothing of the kind." he told her, in as forceful a tone as he could muster in the face of such a prospect. He never did find out what had been on Myra's mind, but she seemed better the next day so he didn't press, even though he hadn't forgotten. Maybe when they were outside school, then he'd ask her.


End file.
